The Intelligence Officer
by innovare
Summary: "I am Major General Jack O'Neill, and my life, as I knew it to be, had altered into a cruel and twisted Incursion. Colonel Carter informed me it would be like a flashback, but it felt like I was sucked into a black, empty canvas, coerced to observe the deepest recesses of my mind as it unfolded before me."
1. Prelude

**Copyright** **: existing characters belong to MGM and the creators of the Stargate Franchise. Story written for fan fiction.**

 **Autho** **r: lezaanv**

 **Summary:** **"I am Major General Jack O'Neill, and my life, as I knew it to be, had altered into a cruel, and twisted Incursion. Colonel Carter informed me it would be like a flashback, but it felt like I was sucked into a black, empty canvas, coerced to observe the deepest recesses . . . honestly, if I continued writing, it would bemuse the living daylights out of anyone who actually read this report."**

 **Characters** **: General Jack O'Neill, Colonel Samantha Carter, Daniel Jackson, Teal'c, Colonel John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Colonel Cameron Mitchell, General Hank Landry, and Vala**

 **Please be advised** **: story has not been beta'd. I apologize in advance for any mistakes. They are unfortunately mine.**

* * *

 **Prelude** : The Intelligence Officer

 **Underground chamber** **– Russia 2009**

Echoing footfalls pounded down the dimly lit corridor, as the anxious young analyst navigated his way through the secret vicinity. He took a sharp left turn and emerged into the operations centre through a double door.

Sounds of arguing analysts, typing keyboards and bleeping equipment instantly filled his ears, and his emerald eyes quickly absorbed visual and communications stations operated by Russia's finest intelligence personnel.

In addition to this, large flat screens streamed live satellite footage. A view of China's nuclear operations caught his attention, and then another display of his own country's undertakings.

Scanning the room from left to right, the analyst visualized the bigger picture he belonged to, until his eyes came to rest on an office pinned off to the far right.

A metal staircase ascended for eight feet, and then vanished into its wooden structure, and without further ado, he crossed the concrete floor, dodging gesturing comrades and heated discussions, and took the stairs two at a time.

Fumbling with a stack of folders in his arms, he managed to thud a few times on the door before the occupant inside permitted entrance. He turned the knob, opening the door with a toe stub, and quickly moved for the table situated to the left, scattered the manila folders on its surface and rushed for the centre of the room.

The sound of clicking heels resonated in the small office as he saluted his commanding officer.

"At ease Mestrovic."

He complied, relaxing his rigid posture.

"Is this the information requested?" The older man by the name of Dimitri gestured at the messy folders.

Mestrovic acknowledged with a curt nod.

"Good, show me general information." He motioned at the transparent board mounted to the left wall.

The analyst nodded in lieu of a verbal reply, closed the distance to the table in record speed, and grabbed for the closest folder. Shaky fingers peeled back the first layer, his right hand extracting a large photo from the contents inside, and proceeded to stick it onto the board to the left of the central vertical line.

For a few seconds, he studied the greying man in the image, mentally rearranging the information in his mind, and then swallowed nervously, as he tilted his head slightly to gaze at his commanding officer.

"Jonathan Jack O'Neill was born on October 20, 1952 in Illinois, USA. At a young age, he moved to Minnesota, and years later, joined the Air Force. This was during the Vietnam War."

The analyst paused briefly to gaze at the folder resting in his open palm, paging through up until he reached the desired sheet.

"Engaged in black operations until 1994 the year he reached Colonel Status, and disappeared soon thereafter, a decision based on the death of his wife and son. He later returned to active duty in 1996 to join the USAF Office of Special Investigations, Virginia, and in 1998, he was assigned to the Department of Defence, then moved over to the Pentagon where he has worked ever since."

Mestrovic closed the folder, placed it to the side, and grabbed for another. He extracted a photo, and placed it against the board, yet to the right of the vertical line. Next, he took a red marker from the holder attached to the board, pulled its cap off, and drew a line connecting the two photos. Then grabbed the folder once more resting it in his palm.

"Met Captain Samantha Carter in '98, in addition to her father, General Jacob Carter, and her C.O., General George Hammond, at an awards ceremony in Washington D.C – Colonel O'Neill and Captain Carter married in 2000."

"It is not permissible for American soldiers."

Dimitri raised an eyebrow at the nervous Mestrovic thinking the information was incorrect, but the young analyst remained adamant in his expression.

"Only when in direct chain of command." He replied. "With their job descriptions they don't coincide in any manner of speaking."

"Understood . . . carry on."

The analyst curtly nodded, swallowing the nervous knot in his throat.

"Colonel Samantha Carter has worked for NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain since 1994; which is a false identity. Her husband knows only that she is an astrophysicist in its deep space telemetry department. This is indeed a cover, as she has been a part of Stargate Operations since its initiation. During this period up until this present day, Jack O'Neill has climbed up the ranks until General Status, accomplishing some of the best work the Pentagon has ever produced. He has caught numerous international and national terrorists, and stopped many domestic bombings. Always seemed to have good Intel and a tremendous pit of resources he relies upon."

Mestrovic returned to the centre of the room signalling he had completed the task.

Dimitri thrummed his fingers on the desk's surface, their sound echoing tediously in the room. His one eyebrow raised in question as his mind mulled over the information relayed.

"All right. Appears you have covered the basics, but I need to know all before passing it on to the General."

His fingers halted their deed and the older man relaxed in his chair, hands now forming a triangle before him.

"Tell me why our government chose him."

"Da Ser." Mestrovic complied.


	2. The Ball

**Chapter 02** : The Ball

 **Washington D.C.** **2009**

Donned in a black tuxedo, Jack O'Neill navigated his way through the mingling crowd, until he reached his awaiting wife, and carefully handed her the champagne glass.

Samantha O'Neill accepted it with a broad smile expressing her gratitude with a soft tone, "Thank you my dear husband."

"Pleasure my dear wife." His lips curled into a wry smile that stretched up to his eyes.

"I thought you hated this." She whispered in his ear, blues eyes sparkling with humour.

"Hate is such strong word don't ya think Sam? Dislike is more like it."

His wife stared with a deadpan expression not buying his excuse.

"Fine!" He caved, and she smiled smugly celebrating her small victory. "Okay, so I _hate_ this – gathering of the saints they're most certainly not; just a bunch of penguins and peacocks from the USAF, Marine Corps, Pentagon, NORAD and the latest addition, Something Security, all of them prancing about, while the real heroes go unnoticed."

He paused briefly, brow furrowed as his eyes scanned through the crowd, when he remembered something.

"Homeworld Security . . ." He declared unexpectedly, her smile fading as he continued. "Whoever the hell they may be . . . just another _security_ company hiring ex-marines, dishonourably discharged soldiers; individuals who pose more of a threat than save people from attacks. They refuse to make themselves known to the Department of the Defence, you know. Works directly with the President. I mean, what the hell is that? Isn't our country sacrificing good men and women already?"

A hand gripped his forearm forestalling his rant. He tilted towards his wife, scowling in confusion, completely unaware of her tensed jaw.

 _I thought Homeworld would be skipping this year._ She thought to herself. _Their attendance will draw more attention to the SGC, and I can't have that, now can I._

"You should draw the line honey." She advised, however the intent was a warning. "Let it go."

He released a heavy sigh. "Yeah, getting worked up about something that's none of my business maybe isn't sucha good idea."

"You know how you get when you poke your nose into things you shouldn't."

"Hey," He countered frustrated. "Bad people are exposed. That's my job."

" _Jack_ . . ." Sam cautioned with a raised eyebrow, while demanding inwardly, _please let it be._

His hand raised in surrender eliciting a satisfied smile from his wife.

" _Okay_." He reluctantly agreed as his eyes drifted towards two Generals chatting amongst themselves. A sneer tugged at his lips and she knew what was about to ensue.

"Okay." He said again, this time with a little bit of sportsmanship in his tone.

"What are they discussing?"

"Jack." Sam rolled her eyes in retort.

He schooled a childlike expression as he nudged her with his shoulder, as if they were the only ones within a ballroom crammed with hundreds of people, as if they were sharing a secret.

"C'mon." He pressed smiling mischievously. "It could be fun."

"We do this every time." She whined.

"You know it's the only way I can get through these boring get-togethers." He sulked, facial expression revealing as such. "C'mon, just for a few minutes." He pleaded with puppy dog eyes.

She glared at him with a neutral expression holding it for a while before finally succumbing.

"Just so you know, that look doesn't always work, but . . ." She smiled deviously, enjoying the sardonic reaction her husband caused.

A bright smile curled his lips as he looped her arm in his, waggled his eyebrows, and gestured slightly with his head in the men's direction.

The Marine General opened his lips to reply, and she quickly inserted.

"Your soldiers are never on time. All of them, just a bunch of hot heads . . . now, when it comes to the Marine Corps . . ."

Jack watched carefully as the Air Force General thought about his next words, and anticipated with a muffled exclamation, careful not to draw any attention.

"My word! Was that an insult General? If it wasn't for the Air Force, your boys would never have infiltrated Iraq under the cover of darkness. Let's face it! You wouldn't have had your _grand_ record if it wasn't for the good ol' US of AF."

The couple stifled a laugh as the two Generals departed in opposite directions, clearly unaware of the mocking that had just occurred. Sam nudged Jack with her shoulder, directing his line of sight to some bubbling women. She mimicked once more.

"I just had my nails done at this _divine_ parlour not too far from the Whitehouse. I heard the President's wife visits every so often."

"Oh Julie!" Jack smiled wickedly as he mirrored the woman's voice. "They're simply gorgeous, but I've been with the First Lady, and can't, for the life of me, remember this parlour. Are you sure . . ." The woman paused noting her friend's disappointed facial expression, however Jack kept on mocking. "Maybe on days when she wants to be alone, but they are indeed divine, Julie, like nothing I've seen before."

Sam nudged him in the ribs, Jack slightly recoiling as he fought to stifle his laugh, nevertheless, still managed to draw a couple's attention mingling off to their right. Both of which stared in confusion, but the O'Neill's' greeted them with charming smiles and then focussed on their next target.

* * *

After an hour of mingling, mocking dignitaries and high-ranking officers, the couple beckoned their goodbyes, and left for the evening en-route for their home in Arlington. A journey that took another hour, for it was snowing outside, and other drivers besides them, had home in mind.

Finally, their limo halted before the desired residence and after a few moments, the driver opened the door, allowing a cold wind to slither through its interior. They filtered out from the backseat, and once outside, Sam gestured for her husband to go on ahead, as she wanted to arrange something with the driver.

Jack adhered without a thought, sauntered up the driveway, towards the only light dangling from the veranda's crown, and smiled broadly at the familiar Christmas decoration hanging on the door.

Meanwhile on the sidewalk, the breeze gently stirred Sam's evening attire and long blonde hair. She tucked a stray strand behind her ear, observed how her husband stepped through the front door, how he dusted the snow from his coat, and bent down to remove his shoes. Once he progressed deeper into the house, she whispered in the driver's direction.

"You have something for me, Colonel?"

"I have General Landry on the line for you." He relayed.

Her hand beckoned for the phone and the driver adhered, quickly grabbing the desired object from the driver's seat, and placed it within her shaky palm.

"Colonel Carter." She greeted in a respective manner.

"Colonel, I apologize for calling so late at night, but we have an emergency."

"No problem, General. You know how we O'Neill's enjoy our social gatherings." They shared a momentary chuckle, before Sam asked with concern. "What's the emergency Sir?"

"I'm afraid I have to terminate your assignment."

 _Oh no! Please no._

There was a brief pause on the line as her eyes revealed the dread that was working its way through her emotions.

"So it's finally happened." She declared, suddenly troubled.

"Yes Colonel. Everything has been set into motion on our end, and Colonel Sheppard will take you to the drop off location. Are you clear on your instructions? The Colonel can go through them with you just to refresh your memory. The protocol has been in standing for quite some time."

"That won't be necessary General." She stated matter-of-factly. "I am familiar with the instructions. I'll be in contact once the destination's reached."

"I am truly sorry Colonel. I know . . ."

"It's okay Sir." She quickly interrupted. "I knew what I got myself into when of all of this was set into motion. If that is all General . . ."

"Yes, Colonel, that is all. Sheppard will be of assistance from this point forward. Goodbye." Static noise echoed over the line as her superior set down the receiver.

She stared at the snow-covered grass, biting her bottom lip as the conversation mulled in her mind.

 _I was so sure it would never come to this. . ._ She let out a rickety sigh. _Seems I was wrong._

Sheppard's wading boots echoed in the snow shattering her thoughts. He blocked her saddened expression from prying eyes, and then asked, "How are you doing?" His lips curled into his famous charming smile.

"It's okay John." She wiped at her welling tears. "It was bound to happen sooner or later. I just didn't think it would today." She inhaled a shaky breath controlling the tears trickling down. "Maybe after so many years of waiting, I thought . . ."

"Yeah, that it was all just a fluke. Listen. Maybe it's good that this has come to light. You know . . . the SGC can finally put this to bed."

"You're probably right." Her gaze connected with his sincere expression, and curtly nodded as she composed herself, military mask sinking into place. "Give us two hours."

"Will do, Colonel."

Sheppard checked his wristwatch. "Fortunately I have heating in the car and I believe there's a nice cosy coffee bistro around the corner." He gave her a lopsided smile and stepped aside, gesturing up the driveway. "I will see you shortly, Ma'am."

She smiled at his courtesy and quickly made her way to the front door. Jack sat waiting in the lounge, already dressed in warm casual clothes, his arm draped over the couch, whilst the television silently reeled last night's hockey game.

"What was that all about?" He asked, and then scowled as he noticed her shivering body.

 _Why do you always have to insist that I leave you outside in the cold, with only an evening gown and coat protecting you from the winter air?_

"I received a call from my C.O." She replied while thumbing over her shoulder at the door.

"Don't tell me you have to return to Colorado Springs?" Disappointment etched his facial features. Times such these were scarce and he wanted to spend every free second enjoying her company.

"No," She quickly countered with a joyous smile. "Actually, he gave me some leave. So I was thinking . . ."

He vacated the settee like an excited boy and declared. "Yes, we're going to the cabin."

She stifled a laugh as he sped towards her and enveloped her in a bear hug.

"Indeed we are and since we have a driver at our disposal."

"Oh, I like your way of thinking Mrs O'Neill." He whispered placing a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Goodie, I'll go pack so long, while you take a hot shower. Geez, you're freezing cold. Still can't understand why you have to work through the freakin' limo's phone line."

She ignored the comment, kissed him on the cheek, and pushed him towards the stairs. "Go. I'll be right behind you."

Her excited husband bounded up the stairs as if they were nothing but stepping-stones, and she quickly resisted the pending dismay by shedding her coat, proceeded to hang it on the rack knowing it was for the last time, discarded her high heels and positioned it next to Jack's shiny black shoes, and slung her scarf over his coat.

Her fingers lingered on its collar, trailing down as she allowed the looming nostalgia to flood her emotions, and before the precious memories had an opportunity to bombard her mind, she turned on her heels and ascended the stairs heading straight for the bathroom. A hot shower would certainly dampen the tough task ahead.

* * *

"All packed and ready to go." Colonel Sheppard cheerfully declared as he opened the car door for the happy couple.

"Thank you, Colonel. Can't tell you how long we've waited for this breather." Jack conveyed with a broad smile.

Next to him, Sam slid along the backseat until she reached the other side. The door closed with a soft click, and he draped his arm over her shoulders. She melted into his side like hot chocolate, revelled in his peaceful presence, and when tears threatened to fall, she focussed on his beating heart instead, listened intently as it sped up.

"You're really excited aren't you?"

"I'm over the moon, honey. Wonder if the ol' chimney's blocked again."

"You and that chimney have been going at it for years. Why don't you arrange for someone to clean it in advance?"

"Nah, always been an O'Neill's job."

She snickered. "Can't believe I just heard pride in your voice."

He pulled her closer, rubbing her arm as he did so. "There are many things a man can be proud of Sammy, but you'll always be my most prized possession."

She remained silent desiring to kiss him for such a statement, but instead closed her eyes feigning fatigue. She could sense how her husband stared at her, and then felt how he adjusted for her to lay more comfortably on his chest.

After a while, they both drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 **Hours later**

Unease rapped inside Jack's mind as sleep slowly faded away, and his eyelids opened one at a time.

 _Can't believe I dozed off, must have been exhausted._

His head lifted from where he had rested it upon the backseat, and his eyes skimmed through a limo that was surprisingly quiet and immobile. Panic quickly settled in, eyes frantically panning the interior once more to confirm that he was indeed alone.

 _Where's my wife? The driver? Kidnapped? In an accident? Did they go for help?_

His mind surged with questions as he grabbed for the hidden compartment underneath the seat.

 _Shit! The gun's gone._ _Only three people knew about the compartment and I am the only one still here._

Fear attacked his senses. _What the hell is going on?_

Jack opened the door silently, and climbed out, shoes scrunching on the frosty soil. He walked towards the hood of the vehicle finding himself on an abandoned road, with snow gently floating from the dark sky up above.

 _Okay, so maybe the kidnapping theory's not so farfetched as I thought. There's no sign of an accident, no sign of anything actually. It's like they disappeared without a trace – like ghosts._

He did a slow turnabout, eyes meticulously examining the location.

Surrounding him was a pitch-black forest with only the car's headlights piercing its way up the road; when suddenly, more headlights lit up his position like Christmas decorations, and he quickly shielded his eyes from the sharp glint. He thought of calling out, asking for an explanation, but forestalled as six silhouettes stepped into the streams of light.

"Arrest him." A familiar voiced commanded.

 _No way! It can't be. That's . . ._

His eyes squinted into the sharp light, and then they expanded in shock, as two pairs of strong hands forced his arms behind his back in a locked position.

Colonel Carter stepped towards him, facial features neutral yet unnerving as shadows shaped her countenance, an ambience created by the headlights shining from behind.

Confusion swiftly creased his forehead as he enquired, "Sam, honey, what's going on?" He paused briefly, glimpsing the olive green USAF uniform she wore. "Why are you dressed like that?"

Sam had always donned her dress blues in their years of marriage, and he was under the impression that she had never seen combat. However, from her body language there was no mistaking the authority of an Air Force Colonel. This person before him was not the kind and gentle wife he knew.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you. . ."

The soldier beside him recited his Miranda Rights, but the words distorted in his ears, as his gaze briefly flitted between the men that flanked his wife, eyes glimpsing the driver standing next to her with arms crossed over his chest, gazing at him.

Anger slowly rose in his chest and he began to struggle against the soldiers' grip, shouting furiously. "This is a mistake. Whatever you have . . . whoever the hell you are you won't get away with this."


	3. Russia's Plans

**Chapter 03** : Russia's Plans

 **Underground Chamber - Russia**

 _Colonel Dimitri relaxed in his chair, hands now forming a triangle before him. "Tell me why our government has chosen Jonathan Jack O'Neill."_

* * *

Mestrovic gazed at the scattered folders on the table beside him deciding where he should begin. His emerald eyes stopped scanning and his hand reached for the folder labelled Chekov. The paging of paper resounded in the room, whilst the Colonel thrummed his fingers against one another, waiting in anticipation.

"When Colonel Chekov learned about Stargate Operations, he began to dig in their classified information, and came across a confidentially agreement belonging to Jonathan J. O'Neill. Presumably, they had approached him for the first mission through the 'Gate, but he had disappeared before the meeting could take place."

"After family died?" The Colonel interjected, leaning forward as he peered at the analyst.

"Da. In those absent years, O'Neill investigated everything pertaining their deaths. Concluding they were murdered and had not died in accident as local authorities claimed. Upon deeper inspection, Chekov found that the men responsible had vanished just before O'Neill joined USAF Special Investigations."

"The men were murdered I presume." The young analyst nodded. "Why thorough investigation on the family? Why did the Colonel want this man?"

"Chekov believed it served as a plausible reason for O'Neill's supposed betrayal. It would give us the opportunity to release secret files on Stargate Program as a last attempt at power play."

Dimitri mulled over the statement rubbing his chin, and then lowered his hand as he gazed at Jack's photo.

"Okay, I see where the Colonel was headed. A man would do anything for his family."

Side glancing out the window, his hands thrummed on the desk's surface. He thought for a while, and then turned his attention on the analyst.

"How did Chekov plan to frame O'Neill, especially with military background, and latest position in their Department of Defence? He is very loyal soldier, dedicated to his work."

"Firstly, he married Colonel Samantha Carter, and secondly, Chekov set him up as decoy, whilst the real operatives met in the same vicinity, made it easier to fabricate evidence over the years."

"Understandable. His wife works for the very Organization he was supposedly to join, and coincidently, the very Organization we want to exploit. Chekov was brilliant; that was before he joined them in battle against the Ori." He waved dismissively, "Its history, he served his country well in this regard. Who were our American operatives?"

"NID Agent Frank Simmons served until 2002 when Major John Sheppard ejected him from the Prometheus into space. The next Agent was Paul Barrett, but he had a close relationship with the SGC in addition to a friendship with Colonel Carter. They'd settled for one of Frank's recruits."

"I assume these men covered their tracks."

"Da Ser." Mestrovic set down the folder, positioning his hands behind his back. "Except for Colonel Simmons, they never existed. Trace evidence directs only to General Jack O'Neill."

"All of this . . ." Dimitri rolled his wrist whilst raising a questioning eyebrow. ". . . Stargate Command knows nothing about?"

"Affirmative. Not even their latest addition Homeworld Security knows."

"Good, show me who we are dealing with."

The young man snapped to attention, heels colliding with one another as his posture mimicked a dove puffing its chest. Next, dashed for a thin red folder hidden underneath the stack and retracted a few photos. He positioned himself to the right of the board and placed an image of a bespectacled man underneath Carter's headshot.

"Dr Daniel Jackson, archaeologist and linguist ridiculed for his beliefs that pyramids served as landing pads for Goa'ulds, disappeared off the map in '94 when he joined SGC. And has continued serving until today. He is also the reason for Ra's death."

A photo of a dark skinned man with a golden symbol on his forehead followed, placed on the board underneath the archaeologist's headshot.

"Teal'c. Originally from Chulak and was the former First Prime to Apophis, has served alongside Colonel Carter since '97. He has contributed to SG1's success off-world and on earth. A feared and resourceful warrior."

Mestrovic positioned three more photos on the board and motioned to the one of a fair-skinned man with blue eyes.

"Dr Rodney McKay." Dimitri hissed before the analyst could say a word. "A Canadian astrophysicist sent to us by SGC in '01, to help with Naquadah generator technology. Four months later, he returned to Cheyenne Mountain where he has remained until this day. He's supposedly the foremost expert on the Stargate, second to Colonel Carter. He is an annoying irritating man."

Mestrovic cleared his throat knowing everyone in this facility hated the scientist. He then gestured at the photo of a mischievous smiling soldier.

"Colonel John Sheppard was an officer in USAF before joining SGC in '01. The Colonel and McKay joined at the same time, and together, have been a very effective team. Ostensibly, he's the only one who can work with the scientist." Dimitri snorted in reply. The analyst continued. "Sheppard has been the driver for the O'Neills since Jack was promoted to General."

The Colonel interjected motioning at the bottom photo.

"Last man is Lt Colonel Cameron Mitchell, a talented pilot who led forces in the battle of Antarctica in '04, where he was seriously injured. Joined SG1 a year later."

He stood from his seat, adjusted his uniform jacket, and then sternly gazed at the nervous analyst.

"All right I have heard enough, and am satisfied with the summary; send it to General Petro Kuznetsov immedaitely."


	4. Innocent Until Proven Guilty

**Chapter 04** : Innocent until Proven Guilty

 _Jack O'Neill struggled against the hold, shouting furiously. "This is a mistake. Whatever you have . . . whoever the hell you are you won't get away with this."_

* * *

Sam directed her arm to the left, fingers beckoning at someone to approach, and then motioned at her bound husband.

"McKay, would you be so kind as to escort General O'Neill to Colorado Springs?"

"Do I have to?" Rodney whined in a soft whisper. "Can't Captain Kirk do it?" He gazed expectantly at Sheppard but he simply ignored him. "Teal'c? Daniel? Please, anyone but me."

She rolled her eyes in frustration, tilting her head towards the Colonel.

Sheppard gazed past his C.O., glare as stern as possible, but effective. Rodney's shoulders slouched, and grudgingly gestured for the soldiers to follow him.

They moved past the group and towards the awaiting Humvee, Jack still struggling in the hold, staring at his wife with blazing eyes.

 _Oh boy! Don't put up a scene, Jack. Just obey; just submit to the process, please. You'll receive your answers soon enough._

She turned away from the commotion, trying not to take it to heart. Instead, she looked to Daniel and Teal'c for a distraction.

After twelve years, it was still difficult to subdue the thoughts of having married a possible spy. It tore at her heart and emotions, desperately seeking for release; however, she kept it secured in place, doing the only thing she could. Avoid the man she loved by throwing a veil over the outside world, where his voice ranted about his rights and the work he did for the Pentagon. That what transpired was all just a big misunderstanding.

However, the thing that hurt dreadfully was his unspoken words. Not once did he curse her, not once did he condemn her. Yet deep inside she knew he was fighting a greater war of betrayal, a battle where he pinned her current actions against their years of marriage, where she was his wife and not a stone cold soldier.

 _There's no doubt that I am wrestling against the urge to stop this absurdity . . . but, the evidence doesn't lie – my husband's a traitor to his country, and now he needs to face the crimes he has committed over the years._

Off to the side, Colonel Sheppard observed how the SG1 members conversed among themselves, and noticed that Sam's body language clearly betrayed how she felt about the situation. His gaze then flitted between the few soldiers who had blocked off the road, to those who guarded the area in expectation of a surprise attack. Remarkably, General O'Neill had no backup in place; and consequently, the SGC had overplayed security wise. His eyes finally settled on the approaching Canadian.

Rodney clapped his hands together, rubbing them in glee. "Right, we're good to go."

"You should catch up then." Sheppard gestured with his chin at the primary Humvee slowly moving up the road. "They're leaving without you."

McKay turned on his heels, blue eyes showing his dilemma, and quickly rushed after the convoy, waving and shouting for them to stop.

Sheppard observed how the event unfolded as brake lights lit up in the night, Rodney sliding on the slippery road, and finally coming to a standstill against the vehicle's rear-end with a loud thud. An aching moan drifted through the winter air, while the Canadian fought against the slippery dirt on hands and knees, and then collapsed onto his side, winded from the effort.

"Ow!" He croaked, purposefully drawing the notice of nearby soldiers. Two responded in kind, each repressing a snicker, and helped him to his feet.

Sheppard smiled turning his attention away from the commotion, towards SG1, again listening in on their conversation.

"I will handle this like I do any other mission." Sam answered Teal'c's question.

Daniel threw his hands up, seemingly exasperated by the reply. He quickly retorted. "Sam. You've been married for nine years, don't pretend like there's nothing there. Deep down, you know he's a good man."

Sam gazed off into the distance, barely noting the fading brake lights of the Humvee as it disappeared from view, and called a memory to mind.

 **Colorado Springs, December 2007**

"Sammy, we need to leave." Jack shouted from downstairs while wrapping his scarf around his neck.

"Coming." She called from the bathroom.

"We're going to catch the late night rush if you don't hurry up."

Sam appeared at the top of the stairs, donned in a light blue jersey, fitting black jeans and tanned boots. Her blonde hair neatly tied up in a pony, while a few loose strands dangled against her cheeks. A soft smile curled her lips as she descended the stairs.

"You never seize to take my breath away." Jack charmingly declared, holding her coat so that she could shrug into it.

Once done, he pulled her closer by the waist, and gently kissed her lips, deepening it as she welcomed the gesture. After a few moments, their lips parted. Her fingers traced his coat's collar until she reached the top button, and kissed him chastely, earning a satisfied hum in response.

"I haven't missed that mistletoe dangling above my head." She teased, eyes peering to look at the overhanging shrubbery.

"I don't mind it staying there the whole year." He whispered in her ear.

She leaned back in his embrace, brow furrowing.

"Since when do you need an excuse to share a kiss with your wife?"

"I don't, but a man's got to cover all his bases."

"I can see that." She motioned at the one hanging outside the front door.

His brow wiggled flirtatiously. "And that's the only one you can see." He grinned wryly as he captured her lips again.

" _Jack_ . . ."

The hooter of a vehicle resounded without warning, and Jack's face creased, confused as to why their driver was waiting outside.

"I thought we were taking the truck."

"Nah, this will be better."

"Why?" His voice relayed annoyance, unhappy about a third party joining them for the evening. "We're adults Sam. We don't need a chaperone."

"You're a General now and Generals are escorted wherever they wish."

"Fine."

She beamed enjoying his submission.

"But there's _no way_ he's driving us to the cabin. I draw the line right there, Samantha."

"Oo you're using my full name now. I'm quaking in my boots, simply quaking."

A wicked sneer lined her lips as she opened the front door. He gave her a dark look, grabbed her scarf from the stand, and threw it over whilst stepping over the threshold.

"Come, come, don't keep the poor man waiting."

"You or him?" Sam joked locking the door behind her and moved to loop her arm in his.

Together they progressed down the driveway, both sharing playful smiles until their eyes locked with John Sheppard. He stood beside the black sedan, collar of his coat turned up against the cold winter air. Greetings and salutations followed, and within seconds, they were inside the cosy vehicle.

Sam nudged Jack in the ribs, gesturing subtly with her head in the driver's direction.

"Oh yes, congrats on the promotion Sheppard. I hear you're a full bird Colonel now."

The soldier's eyes lit up as he gazed at them via the rear-view mirror.

"Thank you Sir. I appreciate it."

"Yeah, seems I need a Colonel to drive me around these days. For the life of me, I can't understand the waste."

"Honey." Sam nudged with her shoulder, displeased with his comment. "He's a war veteran just like you."

"It's okay, Ma'am." Sheppard replied. "I'm used to the General's provocations. Where will you be going this evening?"

"Same ol' shopping centre my dear man." Jack motioned at the passenger's seat. "And could you raise the bar, Colonel?"

"Yes, General."

With a touch of a button, the tinted window slid into place. Sheppard set the vehicle in to drive, and once on the road, fished out his radio holding down the talk button.

"The eagle has left the nest." He communicated in a soft tone.

"There _has_ to be a better jargon for the happy couple. Every time you're escorting the _eagles_ from their . . ." Sheppard depressed the button distorting McKay's rant.

"Hey! You'll shatter my ear drum if you keep doing that. Any day now . . . I'll sue you for everything you've got, even your Johnny Cash . . ." Distortion boomed in the Canadian's ear once again, and he removed the earpiece until it subsided.

"I hate you, you know that?"

Sheppard smiled deviously knowing it was only for show.

"All right." McKay said. "Who do want for surveillance?"

"Tango, Delta, Charlie and Mikey."

"Do I . . ." He cut him off once more, really enjoying the playfulness.

"OKAY." McKay hissed. "I'll gather the troops."

"Good, wear something special."

"Yeah says the driver." McKay scoffed. "While we dress like the village people."

"Be nice Mikey." Came the chirpy reply. "See ya soon."

* * *

At the mall, the couple slowly moved with the flow of the bubbling crowd, until Jack suggested they split up, do their shopping separately, and then continue together at a later stage. Sam agreed, watching as the river of people swallowed her husband, and then she walked in the direction of the elevators.

Once on the second floor, she strolled towards a snug little coffee shop, halting in its entrance as her eyes scanned the buzzing interior for a familiar figure. In the far corner, a man wearing a Santa Suit waved excitedly in her direction, causing her to scowl in confusion, but then he pulled on his beard. She rolled her eyes at the irony, and then walked in his direction.

"You look ridiculous." She stated annoyed as she sat down across from McKay.

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Wanna sit on my lap tell me what you want for Christmas?"

Sam glared, deliberately revealing her dislike.

"Behave Rodney." She gently warned.

"C'mon, who would suspect Santa to be a surveillance nerd?"

"You stick out like a sore thumb. People are looking at you."

"All they see is a man dressed as a fake Santa working on his laptop. Besides, it beats sitting in the men's bathroom watching your hubby on a tiny screen."

"Where's Daniel?" She asked gladly changing the subject, and then beckoned for an earwig.

McKay handed it over, watched how she placed the device in her ear, and coolly replied. "Oh, he's an elf."

"Should've known a man who digs up dead civilizations, is secretly one of Santa's workers."

The scientists' shared a sardonic smile waiting patiently for the above-mentioned to respond.

Daniel exhaled an exasperated sigh.

"Hey, I resent that, and it was the only costume available on short notice."

"So if you're Elfie." She taunted. "T's probably Rudolph the red nose reindeer."

"I am a native of Tanzania selling dried fruits and nuts." Teal'c replied, voice relaying the discomfort he felt.

"That's . . . _inconspicuous,_ and Mitchell?"

"He's hanging from the rafters doing maintenance." McKay replied with a broad smile.

"So everyone is where they're supposed to be."

He nodded watching the footage stream on the laptop.

"Yeah, don't worry, the program I've created for this occasion, scanned your husband the moment he showed up on the first security camera. From then on out, it automatically follows him wherever he goes. The rest of us are just contingency plans."

He looked up from the screen.

Sam examined the restaurant, biting her bottom lip while her forehead creased in worry. Clearly, something else occupied her attention, for she was searching for a way to distract herself from what might transpire.

"Sam."

"Hmm." She turned her attention on the Canadian.

"Go." He stated. "Do your shopping. Everything's under control and I'll shout when something's hinky."

"That even a word?" She tried to sound sarcastic, but failed miserably.

He gave her a lopsided smile and urged her to let him be. She nodded, her eyes hazy, and vacated her seat leaving Santa McKay and the rest of the team to further observe her husband's endeavours.

* * *

 **Ninety Minutes later**

"Gordie Howe . . . one of my all-time favourite hockey players, retired after twenty five years only to take back the reins two years later. Somehow, his wife made it possible for their two boys to play professional, which was extremely hard to do in the 70's due to the rule change - couldn't join unless you were twenty. Any who, Gordie orchestrated for them to play in Texas, left his job and moved his family there, so that he could join his boys on the ice. Dang, was that a bold move, something about desiring to be on the same team, dream of some sorts. Struggled at first, but man, once he got his form back they were an unstoppable team; won the cup that same year. He went on to play for the All Stars in 1980, at the age of fifty-two. Like I said, guy's a hero."

Sam smiled as she wiped some chocolate sprinkles from Jack's bottom lip.

"You should finish your cake." She advised with an affectionate smirk.

His eyes glanced the half-eaten slice and then peered at his wife.

"Been rambling haven't I?"

"I enjoy your rambling, but then, you've never stopped since we've met."

Jack smiled mischievously.

"Sorry about that, was kind of a solitary man back then."

She nodded, gaze scanning through the busy coffee shop.

"Still can't believe I caught such a beauty." He conveyed in admiration. "Damn fortunate."

A sly grin curled her lips at the remark.

"Well, you were lucky, seeing that I like a mysterious man, especially one who's made General."

"What a way to be subtle." McKay quipped over the open channel.

Sam fared well to hide her frustration listening attentively as her husband replied.

"Always knew you liked the strapping kind."

"Not to mention good looks."

She wiggled her brow flirtatiously, while McKay to her dismay retorted. "Give me a break."

 _Rodney, for the love of humanity, could you keep your opinion to yourself? It's hard enough knowing the team's watching our every move, now I have to listen to you and my husband . . . simultaneously._

 _Holy Hannah! Why did I recommend you for Stargate Command?_

She sighed quietly, placing a hand underneath her chin, while resting her elbow on the table. Her eyes flitted between the lively folks enjoying their evening out.

 _Sam, remember the assignment – the surveillance is important._

 _Oh wow, have I become so accustomed to the team's presence that it doesn't bother me anymore?_

 _Frankly, I loathe the intrusion; hate what I'm doing to Jack. He deserves to know what is going on, what we've done over the years. It's a breach of his privacy, of our lives for crying out loud – but I can't bring myself to confess this indiscretion._

 _Unfortunately, it's always been duty before self . . . for a long time, since I was young. Faithfulness, loyalty, was the backbone of our family and joining the SGC just seared it deeper into my DNA. I've dedicated my life to saving this planet, and now that the war with the Goa'uld and Replicators is finally over, only Jack's status remains._

She observed how he finished the delicious-looking cake and then went on to listing hockey statistics, but her mind was far from the sport.

 _Oh Jack, you would have loved gating off-world, enjoyed the adventure and danger it posed. You would've made a great leader, but then we would never have fallen in love._

 _Does this make me selfish or just captivated by a man who could turn out to be a traitor? Fact is: I've seen enough alternative universes to know my marriage is worth the risk._

Sam ignored the agony eating away at her emotions, instead reached for her husband's hand in an attempt to soothe it.

Deep down she knew Jack was innocent. Still, this was why the team had faithfully kept watch, stayed in the shadows, to ascertain that he was loyal to his country.

She had chosen to prove his devotion as an intelligence officer, but deep down she had failed to prepare her heart for the contrary.

* * *

" _Sam, do not overlook the timeline in which you were soldiers, serving under the same command." Teal'c replied._

" _This timeline is the relevant one, the others possible outcomes._ This is reality _– where I'm married to Jack O'Neill, and together we are willing to sacrifice our careers so that others won't have to."_

" _Seems your mind is settled then?"_

" _It was so from the beginning, Teal'c. I have to bear the consequences of my decision."_

" _How will your betrothed react once it is known? Would he not resent your actions? He may not see this in the same light."_

" _True, but then again, everything accomplished was for his sake. Sacrifices made so that I could save him from devastation and humiliation."_

" _You speak as if he's innocent, and yet you refuse to confront the possibility of betrayal."_

" _You're wrong about that. A day doesn't go by that I question_ what if. What if _– two words that could make or break my career. Once he is exposed, I'll be under investigation. Both our careers are in jeopardy of dishonourable discharge. Jack will spend years in jail, whereas I'll be so happy as to find anything in the private sector. We'll be tarnished."_

" _Let's hope your judgment call was for the best. In the end, we will stand by you Colonel Carter."_

" _Thank you, I appreciate your support."_


	5. Interrogation

**Chapter 05** : Interrogation

Artificial fluorescent light beamed from above, while Jack's eyes scanned the room's interior analysing every detail. The opposing wall had a large two-way window about six foot above the floor. Probably hid an observation room which was currently dark, yet somehow he knew someone was watching – a skillset he had trained himself to use since joining the DOD.

To his left located a metal door painted in a bluish grey colour. Moving from its top right corner down to the door's handle was a green strip consisting of a masking tape substance. Centre room, situated a lone table and two chairs opposing one another, one he was currently occupying. He was free to move about, as no restraints held him in place.

This was without a doubt an interrogation room, and he was still in need of knowing why they had transported him here.

His brown eyes settled on the window once more, facial expression neutral but there was a hint of cockiness curling his lips.

Too many times, he had left the culprit in the room to brew, until _the man_ entered. He was that _man,_ and boy did he love making them squirm, sing like a songbird. Now the roles were in the reverse, but he was optimistic, because he had the perfect strategy in mind.

The door suddenly opened, briefly scattering his thoughts, and in walked a man whose baby blue eyes were framed by circular glasses. He wore military styled boots, blue slacks, a black T, and a blue uniform shirt.

Upon further observation, Jack noted he was just over six foot in height, had a muscular body, light brown hair, and the wrinkles on his face, revealed someone who frequently bore a friendly expression. However, behind those eyes was a person who had fought in a war, a fearsome war it seemed.

He looked familiar though, and for some other reason, there was a sense of respect he felt towards the man, as if they could be best of friends. He ignored the absurdity and focussed rather on the individual seated across from him. He held a folder in his hand, which meant they had sent a soft-hearted man to do an interrogator's job.

"Hi Jack. I'm Daniel Jackson." The pleasant man began.

Jack remained blank in expression, yet kept the soft cocky smile.

"Okay then." Daniel declared. "Shall we begin?"

"Shouldn't there be a lawyer for this?" He stated directly and gazed at the window behind Daniel. "Where's Sam?"

Dr Jackson forced eye contact staring with sternness at the man's countenance.

"I'm sorry Jack, but this is the most secure facility in the world. No one knows you're here and no can help you. You're on your own."

Jack ignored him, voice irritated, "Where's my wife? I want to speak to her. I'll say nothing until I see her."

He slammed his palms against the table's surface, his anger startling the archaeologist, for he was calm just a second ago, why the sudden hostility?

"Nothing you hear me! Get her in here right now." His words thundered dangerously low.

Daniel turned in his seat glaring at the same observation window as Jack did a few minutes ago.

Behind him, however, Jack's cocky smile returned, gently quirking his lips. He knew exactly what was to follow.

The door unlocked and swung open.

Samantha Carter O'Neill stood glaring at the General, analysing the micro-expressions on his face. He remained resolute, mirroring her stern gaze. She leaned against the doorframe staring with a blank expression, and then nodded in Jackson's direction, who took it as the cue to leave the couple alone.

Carter and Jack's eyes locked with one another revealing no hint of recognition, but inside both were shouting questions at each other. The tense atmosphere dangled in the air like a thick smog in need of daylight, and remained surprisingly impenetrable.

She pushed off from the doorframe and entered the room heading straight for the window.

Her husband's eyes trailed behind studying her military posture like she did his in the window's reflection. This was the first time they had seen each other in their respective roles, and unfortunately, Carter knew more about her husband than he did about her.

His demeanour unquestionably reflected his reputation – without a doubt a strategist, something clearly seen a moment ago. However, Jack barely knew of this persona opposing him, ignorant of the battles she had faced while he was analysing terrorists, saving America from possible deadly attacks, whereas she did so for earth and several other planets.

"Where am I?" His stern voice broke through her haze.

"What's your mind telling you?" Carter simply replied, eyes cold as ice, it sent a shiver down his spine.

"My wife, who refuses to explain to me what's going on, is holding me against my will. A wife who I now understand did more than just deep space telemetry."

Carter ignored his account and swiftly conveyed his transgressions.

"Turns out you've been selling state secrets to Europe, China, to name a few, expressly information regarding Stargate Command."

She studied his reaction hoping he would deny the allegations, but shock registered on his countenance, seemingly mulling over the blatant accusations.

"What?" He exclaimed confused. "What the hell? This is . . . this is bullshit. You know me Sam you know who I am." He opened his arms drawing attention to himself. "Do I look like someone who is capable of doing what you're implying?"

He lowered his arms to the table wincing at the idiotic question, when suddenly realization dawned. He gazed at Carter.

"What the hell is Stargate Command anyway? A defence organization?"

His response struck home for the Colonel, something she knew very well. Her husband was telling the truth, for his reaction clearly mirrored the same outburst from the Ball last night. Jack O'Neill truly did not know what was taking place – a miracle considering the SGC's dealings with the Pentagon.

And it appeared as if the same Pentagon General O'Neill worked for and gave his life for, had managed to keep him away from the most secretive organization known to earth. Nevertheless, something was wrong with this picture.

Sam scowled at the floor, and then quickly exited the room, Jack shouting after her.

"Hey! We're not done yet!"

General Landry appeared in the door, purposefully separating the couple with a closed door, and moved to sit across from him.

Meanwhile, Carter sped walked her way through the different corridors until she reached her lab. Then, hastily locked the blast doors and slid down to the floor, surrendering to a dam of tears that flooded down her cheeks.

While one thought in particular pounded like a hammer, _how could I have ever doubted my husband?_

 **Colorado Springs, July 2004**

"Where's my wife? Where's Samantha O'Neill?"

Jack demanded as he ran down the glossy corridor, shouting until he reached the closest nursing station. The woman looked at her computer calling up the name on the monitor, and then guided him towards the trauma section.

His heart raced like a horse's hoofs in his chest as he trailed behind.

 _This, it's not happening, my wife's not in a hospital._ Dread clawed at his emotions – _I can't face losing another loved one again._

Ten years ago, his first wife, and son had died in a supposed car accident, and now . . . everything around him slow motioned until only the beating of his heart remained.

He halted at the threshold of the room, inside stood his father-in-law clasping her hand in his, while a distraught expression lined his countenance. Then Jack knew it had to have been a bad accident.

However, little did he know that it happened when the Replicators infiltrated the SGC.

Defending the gate room alongside her father, she had sustained a broken wrist and leg, in addition to some bad bruises. Other than that, she was fine. They had transported her off base for her husband's sake and sent Jacob Carter in the SGC's stead. Her current chart read: a car accident, as the injuries reflected as such – information that sent his heart beating like rapid machine-gun fire.

Fear had tormented him all the way from Washington D.C. on a transport arranged by Sam's C.O. General Hammond. Something he was immensely grateful for, otherwise he would be waiting at the airport shouting vigorously for them to arrange a plane ticket.

"Jack." Jacob's soft voice echoed in his ear shattering his hazy thoughts.

"Yeah." He gasped, suddenly realizing that he had been crying unawares.

Jacob gripped his bicep and gently pulled him along until they stopped before her bedside. Sam appeared peaceful as she slept on. He took her hand in his, grateful that she was alive.

"The Doctor said she can go home in a few weeks' time."

Her father came about standing now on the other side. He regarded his son-in-law as he grabbed for a chair and pulled it closer, saw how he took her hand and lightly kissed her knuckles treating her as if she was a treasured diamond. This looked like a man who would rather give his life in his daughter's stead.

 _What a mess – my daughter chose to prove our government wrong, claiming you were falsely accused, set up by a country we have yet to expose._

"General Hammond informed me about her condition on the way over." Jack replied without lifting his gaze. "He said he'd give her some leave to recuperate, so I've gone and made arrangements to stay at the cabin once she's released."

"Good idea. It would be a well-deserved breakaway from everything."

He curtly nodded keeping his eyes fixed on his wife. "Thank you Jacob. Your support has been . . ." He swallowed the knot in his throat, cursing the fresh tears welling in his eyes.

A smile quirked Jacob's lips, "Pleasure son, you are after all family."

* * *

 **O'Neill's Cabin, Weeks Later**

" _Can I help you officer?"_

 _The man came across barely the age of thirty, and his countenance mimicked that of a grieved parent. I wonder if he had lost someone close, maybe a father or mother. On the other hand, maybe another officer lost his or her life in a raid today, someone he knew._

 _Maybe he was just a lonely man with his heart on his sleeve, who knew._

" _Are you Colonel O'Neill?"_

 _I swallowed the knot in my throat as I fought against the possibility that I was the one who had lost a loved one today._

" _Yes." I muttered under my breath.  
"I'm sorry Sir, but you have to come with me. Your wife . . . she . . ."_

 _I felt the air leave my lungs, my legs collapse underneath me. Down on my knees, something ruptured within, and tears streamed down my cheeks as grief racked my body. Nothing registered. Nothing made sense._

" _Are you okay Colonel?"_

 _I barely heard the officer's concerned enquiry. It all felt like a dream, as if I was floating in a world that was unreal, unnatural. I wanted to wake up and feel Sara next to me, sleeping peacefully, find Charlie in his bed hugging his favourite toy._

 _It finally hit me, and I grabbed at the door, pulled myself upright, but my legs felt like jelly as fear paralysed my ability to move. Still, I had one thing in mind – I wanted, so desperately, to confirm if they had actually died, that what I just heard was nothing but a cruel joke. That they were waiting for me at our favourite park._

 _I pushed the officer aside, but he grabbed me by the arm. "Colonel O'Neill, it's best that I take you. You're in no condition to drive."_

 _The words sounded absurd, more like a ploy, another form of manipulation. How could I trust them?_

 _I ripped my arm from his grip and jogged for the truck, swung the door open and managed to climb haphazardly into the front seat, but the officer intercepted the effort once more, grabbing the keys from the ignition._

" _Please Sir." He pleaded. "It's unwise to drive in your state."  
"Leave me the hell alone." I growled at him. "I just lost my family, what does it matter what I do or don't do. Just let me go."_

 _He stared at me as if I had gone crazy, confused with the reaction. To him it seemed asinine, a misnomer._

" _I can't let you do that Colonel." The officer stated cautiously._

 _I never felt this type of rage coursing through my body and my emotions before, and I unleashed it upon the steering wheel, slamming my fists and forearms against its frame, infuriated, confused, and alone._

 _My heart was hurting, yearning for my wife and child I could never hold in my arms again. I couldn't turn back time to the day when I last saw them, the day where tears streamed down their faces as I left for the Base. I can still feel their arms wrapped around me as we hugged each other goodbye._

" _Why did it have to be them?" I shouted aloud. "Why not me? It wouldn't hurt this much if I died. It's selfish I know, but at least they could have lived happy lives."_

 _The police officer backed away towards his vehicle, slowly, in order to avoid detection, but I heard him call for assistance over the radio, and my mind screamed that more obstacles were in my way now, that it was another ploy to keep me from seeing my family._

 _I was an Air Force Colonel trained for secret operations, skilled in killing a man with my bare hands; there was no hesitation as I charged for the scared officer. An angry growl climbed in my throat, as I saw the dread in his eyes, glimpsed the sudden panic tear at his emotions as he grabbed for his weapon._

 _The closer I got, the harder he pulled at the standard issued Glock, the holster's strap refusing to release, and then I took him down like a ferocious bear._

 _We sprawled on the ground, wrestling for the keys that had slipped from his chubby fingers._

" _Your wife sent me Colonel!" He exclaimed frantic and breathless._

 _I hesitated in the sprawl, thinking it had been a mistake all along, but I had heard their names, I was certain I had. Why would he deny it? Was he only following orders to save my life, like they trained him to do?_

" _Sara, alive?"_

 _I let go, and stood up, pacing on the front lawn with my hands on my head. My emotions, my thoughts mulled profusely, as I had no idea what to believe anymore. Even my outburst seemed irrational._

 _I was a black ops soldier for crying out loud, loss was part of the job, we were taught to deal with it on a daily basis . . . but why the reckless behaviour then? I just assaulted a law-abiding citizen._

 _I repeated those words silently until I noticed movement to my left, and I halted gazing down at the winded officer._

" _Samantha O'Neill sent me." He conveyed once more from his seated position. Weapon finally free from its holster, he directed it in my direction and got to his feet._

" _Samantha?" I turned towards him, confusion clear on my countenance._

" _Yes. Samantha O'Neill. You've been married for a while."_

" _You're mistaken. Sara O'Neill's my wife, has been since the 80's. We have a son together, check my file, it's all there."  
"I have Colonel, before . . ."  
"I don't know anyone by the name of Samantha." I snarled, startling the poor man. "So . . . I suggest you check again."_

 _Distinct radio chatter filtered over his hand-held receiver, the man's facial features revealing the urgency, but he never lowered the gun from my position, never lost sight of his target. He remained calm as the info-relay concluded, continued resolute in his demeanour as he held my gaze. The weapon faltered slightly, his hand shaking in angst, something that unfortunately counted against his calm veneer._

 _I knew the verdict. They had ordered the officer to arrest me, take me into custody. I was a mad man. 'A killer' they had said over the radio. His eyes voiced the real story, but his body trembled in fear._

 _Apparently, dispatch had sent a team as backup, and this police officer was to hold out until they arrived. Good, I had the opportunity to find out the truth, 'cause ostensibly, this man had used some sort of activation word, a word that had sent me on a needless rampage._

" _You walk up to my porch, give me a message that I clearly remember conveyed the deaths of my family, yet you act like it never happened. Tell me. What is it that I did wrong?"_

 _My voice was calm, confident even, and my gaze reflected a smug countenance – all to elicit more panic in the officer. He swallowed nervously, reinforced his grip on the gun by placing his right hand underneath his left, and finally moved his body into that famous stance all federal hotshots assumed._

" _There's been a report that you've escaped the ward this morning." He said. "Your wife, Samantha, briefed the authorities on your possible whereabouts. She's worried, Colonel."  
"Me, insane? You're insane!" I shouted at him, his gun jerking in tune with my accusing hand. "I just got back from a deployment in Iraq . . ."  
"Yes, the Gulf War, where you were held prisoner."  
"How do you know that? That's classified!" I moved towards him, convinced more than ever that he was the enemy.  
"Whoa, whoa . . ." He warned as the weapon's safety clicked off. I halted my advance. "That was in the early 90's Colonel, this is the year 2004. You've had a relapse."_

" _A relapse?" I repeated, mind wrapping around the prospect that I could be wrong once again._

 _The officer explained, "A mental breakdown of some sorts, you're reliving past events Colonel. That's why it is imperative that I take you back to the hospital. Back to your wife."  
"To Samantha?" _

_I frowned confused, as I sought through my memory banks. There was no recollection of this woman I allegedly married. In my mind, Sara was my wife and Charlie my son. It made no sense, whatever this man believed was the lie, and whatever I trusted in was the truth._

" _Yes, Sir."_

 _His reply shattered through the grimy haze, and my eyes connected with the weapon in his hand. If I could distract him, disarm him in the process. I could escape this hellhole, but then he spoke again after a message had come through over his radio._

" _Samantha wants you to know that you got through this traumatic event once before, that you can do it again. She also wanted me to relay that you promised to be there for her,_ always _, and you would never leave her behind."_

" _I . . . I . . . did?"_

 _My mind spun in circles, familiar memories changing, coming, going, and then I remembered everything._

Jack's eyes snapped open, suddenly staring at the darkness that encased the bedroom. A bad nightmare had tormented his dreams, and the sudden thought of recalling it to memory, triggered a bout of gooseflesh. Even his breathing slightly increased, so he blinked away the bothersome images, and tilted his gaze towards the window, where the moonlight barely shone through the curtain.

He could still feel the pain of the struggle in his muscles. It lingered there, reminding him of the senseless events that had taken place. He closed his eyes once more, willing everything back to normal, when Sam stirred in her sleep groaning softly as her injuries protested.

His intention for the holiday was to help with her recovery, but instead she had reverted into herself, speaking only when necessary. It was new to him and he wondered what really occurred in the accident, because since that day, the usual bubbling woman he fell in love with was nothing more than a shell.

Sam's arm draped over his chest, her hand resting upon his heart. Jack's hand trailed along her arm until it came to rest upon her knuckles, his thumb caressing for a while. She murmured his name, and he positioned his forehead against her temple, lips lightly touching her ear.

"Our separate destinations have been hard on me Sam. I miss you so much, and there are times when you are absent for weeks before you contact me again. In those times, my mind and heart wars against the thought that you might be gone forever . . . I'm so far away."

He paused for a brief moment as her hand captured his.

"I love you Samantha O'Neill; I don't want to lose you. I . . . I don't know what I would do if I did. You are all I have and I promise to hold you close to my heart where you'll be safe forever. Nothing can separate us. Nothing can snatch you away. I will be your lion, your protector. I will do anything for you because you've saved me, rescued me from a meaningless existence, brightened my days like the morning light, and set my feet on the right path. You have to pull through Sammy. Stay strong for me; I will always be there for you, no matter what."

Sam absorbed his declarations slowly, then placed her forehead against his, and spoke tenderly.

"We'll get through this together. We will be strong together, Jack. I am here. I'm right here where I've always been. You've remained my constant safeguard, my friend, my caretaker, lover and my warrior. It was an accident, just a fluke. It was beyond your control, beyond your reach, but someone came to the rescue, brought me back to you, to the arms of my husband. I knew you would be waiting for me once I woke up. I know this is hard on you, you lost your family in this manner."

She took his hand and placed it on her heart.

"Feel the beating of my heart, Jack. I am alive in your protective arms, the place I have longed to be. I love you my dear husband, I treasure you my caring friend. My adoration is more than just a feeling, but a life worth spending side by side hand in hand with you."

Jack smiled in admiration, captured her lips, and pulled her closer, delicately wrapping his arms around her bruised body.

* * *

 _Jack, I was six weeks pregnant when the Replicators attacked Cheyenne Mountain. I lost our baby. I am so sorry. I wanted to tell you, but I waited for our next encounter to surprise you in person. I desired to see the expression on your face and experience such a joyous celebration wrapped in your arms._

 _The time never came._

 _We can never have a beautiful child together. Never share the joys of parenthood. I just . . . I just couldn't shatter our precious memories. Not after you've already lost your wife and son. I couldn't bear to see you the way I had when we first met each other._

 _Jack, you were a wreck hiding behind a façade of sarcasm and provocations. You hid behind your work like a rabbit in its hole. Then as we enjoyed each other's company, I saw the sparkle in your eyes, and knew I had saved you. Little did you know that you had rescued me as well._

 _I love you more than anything in the world. You have no idea how your love has encouraged me through the years. Your love has stretched over the universe, strengthened me from afar, and yet you are oblivious to this simple fact._

 _I can't describe to you how much I've desired to show you what I do, however, our government has flagged you as a security risk, flagged you as a spy . . ._

 _I believe you are innocent my dear, like a dove. You will die before betraying this country._

 _You have to know Jack, that at first, I had no choice, but after I met you, I was determined to be your rescuer, to be your defence._

 _You were correct this evening – nothing can separate us not even this accusation. I will see to it, even if I have to persuade General Hammond to persevere 'til the evidence exposes the truth._

 _We will know the truth about who and what you are. We will fight, because that is what we do – we don't leave each other behind._

* * *

 **Present Day**

Colonel Carter's eyes slowly peered about the lab. They came to rest on the alarm clock positioned on her desk, and reminded her that she had to prepare for the briefing in thirty minutes' time. Quickly vacating her seated position, she scurried about, grabbing the necessary documentations that detailed the last twelve years, and inserted them within a brown folder. She gazed at a small mirror checking that her makeup was still all right, and then she came to a halt at the table, breathing slightly elevated.

The last few hours had been taxing on her emotions, yet training had taught her to carry on regardless. Emotions clouded a soldier's judgement, forcing them to make irrational decisions, and over the years, this discipline had saved her team countless of times. Now she only hoped it would remain so when she had to sit through General Landry's meeting.

There was no time like the present, as she pulled herself together, adjusting her olive green base dress uniform. A façade portraying that she was a decorated Colonel in the USAF about to enter a highly professional briefing room, filled with her closest friends and colleagues. Thankfully, it was not a plan of exfiltration; instead, they would be dissecting her husband's life and career.

Sam swallowed the bile in her throat, grabbed the folder, and unlocked the lab, stood for a few moments, visualizing how her emotions calmed down, and walked forward, heading for the elevator that would escort her deeper down Cheyenne Mountain to level 27 – the briefing room.


	6. Debriefing

**Chapter 06** : Debriefing

Opposing Colonel Carter sat a hefty man with military styled hair, blue eyes, and wore USAF dress blues with two stars on his lapels, presenting that he was a Major General. Daniel and Teal'c flanked her, while McKay and Sheppard flanked the General, and Lt Colonel Mitchell situated next to the Jaffa, his baby blues staring at the table's surface.

"General, should she even be here?" McKay's rude question inadvertently drew the team's attention.

He frowned in retort, confused as to why they all seemed upset with what was clearly termed a classified meeting. Furthermore, the people who situated around the table had to endorse her husband first, before she could join in on the conversation.

 _Protocol established._ He thought to himself, but then Carter glared sternly, and his enjoyment quickly melted away.

"It's okay guys. She said. "I'm used to his blatant statements. After eight years, he should know that it's a fruitless effort to take centre stage." She tilted her head in satisfaction allowing a sly smile to curl her lips. "That and I saved him from rotting in Russia."

He squirmed in his chair eliciting smiles from the rest of the team, when General Landry gazed around the table, eyes coming to rest on Colonel Carter.

"I have to say that either General O'Neill is very good at lying or he really is in the dark about the matter. I then also have to agree with your suspicions that the man was falsely accused." His bushy brow furrowed in confusion. "Yet what still remains a mystery is the why, or who would go to such lengths to frame him."

Sam shrugged lightly, happy that Jack was finally in the clear.

"Maybe the one that can help us is the very person presently occupying our interrogation room."

"Explain your reasoning." Landry said.

"General O'Neill is first and foremost an intelligence officer; he knows our allies and enemies like the back of his hand, if we show him our Intel, maybe he can point us in the right direction. I know for a fact that he won't let sleeping dogs lie, he would rather want the satisfaction of catching the bastards who did this to him."

"All right, it's settled then." Landry agreed. "Let's recap what we have on the General."

"Well, what did he do before '94?" She asked of her colleagues, peering at them like a schoolteacher her students.

"He was a Black Ops veteran." Mitchell began.

"Family died in horrific car accident." Sheppard added.

"The SGC approached him for the Abydos mission, but before he could sign the confidentiality agreement, he disappeared off the map only to return in '96, where he joined USAF Special Investigations." Daniel explained.

"Why?" She pronounced waiting for a reply.

"Said the people who were in that specific line of work saved his life." McKay specified.

"During those two years, O'Neill investigated their deaths, and those responsible had vanished without a trace. It would then appear he had worked closely with an investigator." Teal'c supplied.

"Joined Department of Defence in '98, and has been there ever since. Ostensibly, doing a kickass job, especially because of his hands on approach." Mitchell added with reverence.

She nodded in his direction appreciating his enthusiasm.

"The main reason why the SGC made General O'Neill SG1's priority was due to General Hammond's reservations that someone was indeed preparing him to be an escape goat. Additionally, we were required to determine whom these people were. Apparently, Hammond felt responsible for not paying attention to a potential candidate for the Stargate Program, thus, he suggested that I become acquainted with the General, and find out where his alliance rested. As a result, SG1's duty became more of a protection detail than collecting evidence against him."

"The team was a safeguard then?"

She nodded her confirmation.

Landry thought for a short while before continuing.

"I've read George's report. He had been reluctant to mention it before his superiors, but he thought General O'Neill's supposed connection to the Stargate Program, may have been the reason why he was chosen. How the local authorities handled his family deaths was an additional assumption. Therefore, we are, without a doubt, dealing with numerous individuals and groups that want to shut us down, or desire to expose the Stargate to the public."

"Yes, but who would be so persistent and why now? What would they gain? The war with the Goa'ulds, Replicators, and Ori, it's over." Daniel's expression reflected his bewilderment and frustration during his retort.

He continued, "Frankly, this man knows nothing about our twelve year struggled to save this planet, this Galaxy." His gaze flitted between his friends. "Do I have to remind you that all of this was for a man who _could have_ joined our battle in the Milky Way? He poses no threat . . ."

"But he does now." Sheppard interjected. "General Hammond wouldn't have taken this precaution if he thought it to be a dangerous threat to the SGC. Look at what we are facing now. An innocent man would've been condemned for being an international hero, and the Stargate would've been ridiculed in public."

"Our surveillance, our effort, has it meant nothing to you Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c raised an eyebrow at the archaeologist daring him to reply.

"Sounds like you're advertising for the dude." McKay quipped from the side, earning a few glares in response. "All I'm saying is that we've spent years protecting this planet, and one simple man. Not once did we question the real motivation, we just simply agreed. Well, the original SG1 agreed . . ."

The Canadian gestured at Carter, Daniel, and Teal'c, and then gestured between himself, Sheppard and Mitchell. "We're basically the backup singers." He then gazed at Carter. "Surely, it was all for the Stargate's sake – to keep it a secret even if it meant protecting a man who could tip those scales, and make us squirm like we're doing at this moment."

"Didn't know you cared Rodney." She smiled deviously. "You have a point though. We are no closer to exonerating General O'Neill, no closer to finding the main motive behind this fiasco. Furthermore, according to the Pentagon, his guilty no questions asked; otherwise they would've saved him from the wolves when word first got out. It is then clear, they want this settled ASAP."

"So we've been doing the work they should have done from the beginning."

"Yes, McKay, that's why they threw it in our court, not because of General Hammond's persistence. In their eyes, irrespective if the person is guilty or not, espionage is dirty rags, and therefore, is handled as such. They've got plenty of fish in the sea who can do the same job."

"Then everything accomplished was to have solid evidence countering these allegations." Landry inquired.

"Yes and no, our mission was mainly for protection. What we gathered in the process, was, as you implied General – _gathering evidence_ ; not necessarily chasing the culprits. We were hoping it would happen along the way."

"You do know that if you'd gone to General O'Neill in the first place, this would never have happened." Mitchell interjected whilst gazing between General Landry and Carter.

"Agreed Cameron, however, we would've tipped our hand. Our enemy doesn't know what we know, hence the nature of our operation."

"We have the element of surprise." Sheppard merely stated, the team nodding in lieu of a verbal reply. "And we have the culprit in our possession, the very person who can help solve this mystery."

"Colonel Carter should show him around then. Take him through the Gate as an indication of good faith. Maybe show him the evidence and see what he recognises."

General Landry smiled deviously, knowing that what transpired off-world would remain there, and none would be the wiser. It was the best soundproof room they had in their possession; he saw no harm in revealing it to General O'Neill.

* * *

General O'Neill glanced at his wife beside him as passing Airmen faithfully showed their respects with a salute. He bobbed his head in acknowledgement and returned his attention to Carter who, without a doubt, was dressed for battle. She donned black tactical gear, including a vest with a clipped P-90, combat knife, and a M9 Berretta strapped to her right thigh.

He had received an olive green BDU with two stars on his collar marking him as a Major General, but lacked the same gear as his wife. He was out-gunned, but what bothered him the most was the way she carried herself. Her hands rested upon the P-90's butt-end, while she casually strolled down the passageway greeting the soldiers moving past them.

 _This delicate woman, who embraces me with such adoration after a few months absence, she's not_ my _wife. No, her posture reflects authority, respect, and strength I've never seen before._

He scanned her attire once more, his tentative eyes coming to rest on the patch on her shoulder.

"SG1?"

"Sierra Golf One – the designation for the flagship team." She replied without making eye contact.

He nodded, mind distracted. "What does the open triangle and the circle stand for?"

"It's a symbol."

"Vague . . ."

"You'll know more in a few minutes General O'Neill."

" _General_." Jack trailed off.

She discontinued in stride waiting for him to follow her lead, and as he turned to face her, she addressed him with a stern countenance.

"In this mountain, rank carries respect and honour, General. Faithful, dedicated soldiers have laid down their occupations to fight for something greater than themselves. Which means, they see you as a vital part of this Organization regardless of where you come from. I address you by your rank not because I want to separate business from pleasure. I do so, due to the esteem and reputation you carry as a decorated soldier. Is it too much to ask for some respect in return?"

"No, I guess it's not." He gazed about the corridor, and then bore her with an angry glare. "What did you expect _Colonel?_ That after the welcoming committee you gave me, I would just take it in stride. You arrested me, handled this _esteemed General_ like a prisoner, a traitor for crying out loud. Now I'm a _guest_ within a mountain I know nothing about. Forgive my appreciation _darling_."

They glared at one another for a while before she gestured down the corridor. She hoped that what came next would change his opinion of the SGC, not to mention his perspective of her.

He smiled slyly before adhering, shoved his hands into his pants' pockets, whilst he walked on in cockiness knowing it irritated his wife.

She quietly led the way, her mind lost in thought.

 **Wedding Day, August 2000**

Hand in hand, the newly married couple gracefully wandered down the dock, whilst in the backdrop the guests enjoyed their time on the dance floor. The sun was on the verge of disappearing, colouring in the horizon with a beautiful display of vibrant reds. Sam's eyes combed the lake, ears attuned to the chirping birds hidden within the trees, watched those swimming amongst the reeds that gently swayed with the soft breeze.

It was the perfect wedding destination, but then she felt the gentle hand in hers, and reality suddenly dawned on the Major.

 _Married to Jack O'Neill - I've actually gone and done it._

Her heart throbbed in her ears and her vision stagnated on the lake, body frozen to the spot, something clearly noticed by her husband.

"You okay?" Jack asked concerned. "Not getting cold feet are you?"

A snicker slipped through his lips as he turned to regard the beautiful woman standing beside him. A soft gentle smirk graced his countenance.

 _Was this the right decision?_

"I'm fine." She relayed regardless of the thought. "Just realized how fortunate I am."

 _Do I want to shatter my heart into pieces for a man who I love more than life itself?_

She smiled up at him, capturing his free hand with hers.

"We're married. Wow!" She acknowledged.

 _I can't deny that he makes me happy. I simply can't._

"Well, I think I'm the fortunate one. To have found someone who would love this broken, wounded man."

A sincere expression lined his facial features as he said those words, then stared out over the water, admiring the sunset, when she suddenly stepped forward curling her arms around him.

 _I hope my judgement's not clouded. There's no question that my world will feel hollow if you were pulled from it Jack. Please be the innocent man I believe you are. Don't disappoint my love._

"You're not wounded anymore." She admitted affectionately as she gazed into his loving eyes, savouring the warmth of his arms around her body, while his smile melted her worries away.

"Together we're whole."

"I believe we are."

The couple shared a tender kiss before Jack receded. His hands fell away from her cheeks, grabbed for her hand, and guided her towards the reception tent standing tall on the lawn.

"Come, the guests are waiting."

* * *

 **Present Day**

"This here is the briefing room." Colonel Carter relayed as she spread her one hand before them.

To the immediate right was a staircase leading down to the level down below. Situated before them, was the briefing table, a guard's station to its right and a spiral staircase to its left. General O'Neill's eyes lazily combed the room's interior, gaze stagnating on the large observation window, which he surmised looked upon the room below. He felt drawn to it; however, the Colonel motioned at the staircase.

 _Maybe what's down there is admirable from a close up perspective._

He followed reluctantly, mind still swirling with confusion, anger, and disappointment. He refused to accept that he was contemplating the life he had lived with this woman. It was like a whole new person was walking beside him, and now he had to reacquaint again. Yet, could he blame himself for thinking so in the first place? She lived a life so unlike she portrayed – so did he. Then they were both masters at playing the same covert game.

His shoulders relaxed at the revelation.

"General O'Neill." Carter softly called.

His reverie shattered, eyes coming to rest on his beaming wife. "Yes?"

"This is the Operations Room."

Her hand swept horizontally, and his gaze absorbed the nature of the room he was currently standing in. Humming reached his ears along with soft conversations from the Airmen and scientists on duty. Flickering lights from different equipment danced in sequence, however his attention halted on the large window opposing him. A thick metal barrier blocked his view from whatever located on the other side.

 _They really love their windows. They also seem to enjoy hiding what's behind them._

A hand tucked at his elbow urging him to follow. He moved forward, mind distracted by the computers situated before the window, and found another set of stairs extending down to a corridor marked with green and red lines on its floor.

The General followed it with his eyes as it ran down the right-hand side, when the sound of a metal door sliding open suddenly drew his attention to the left. Carter stood in its threshold waiting. Joy beamed in her eyes and his stubbornness melted as if snow, seeing her in this manner reminded him of the firecracker he had met. His wife was home.

Sam gestured with a tilt of her head, begging him to follow. Jack hesitated slightly before stepping forward and they entered the hidden room side by side.

His eyes expanded in shock, whilst she smiled brightly at the scene.

A large circular device spanned from left to right occupying most of the hall in width, and stood at the base of a steel ramp in the middle of the room, as if it was a throne. Seven orange triangles within a similar shaped locking mechanism, located on the outer diameter, while symbols situated upon the inner circle.

The barrier to their left rose exposing the window of the Operations Room, whilst an alarm sounded off.

The inner ring spun within the device, while the locking mechanisms gradually worked in tandem with the Sergeant faithfully calling out that a symbol had engaged.

Jack stood like a gaping fish, watching the uncanny display until he retreated in surprise, a churning wave sprouted forth, and retracted in to what appeared like a rippling pond. It literally took his breath away, his expression impersonating a student daydreaming in class. He was truly lost in a daze.

Sam seized his bicep, pulling him along and they halted at the ramp.

"Wha . . . what is that?"

She revelled in his shock as she replied, "That General is a Stargate."

"Cool." He shook his head, focussing instead on his wife. "Uh, why is the centre glowing like that?"

"It's called an event horizon."

"A what?"

His brow furrowed in confusion, and she had to keep herself from giggling. She really enjoyed bewildering people in this manner.

"What you experienced was a wormhole connecting with another device like this one. Similar to a phone call."

"There's more than one?" He swallowed nervously. "It's purpose?"

"I'll show you. Come."

She pulled at his arm urging him to follow, but he hesitated, gaze mesmerized by the 'Gate's blue reflection.

"What, through that thing?"

"Trust me Jack. It will blow your mind."

Anger briefly flickered in his eyes something she clearly noted, for her hand suddenly released his arm.

"Okay." He replied softly noting that he had burst her excitement.

This seemed important to her, and clearly, she wanted to share this experience with him. He could not dare disappoint.

"Okay, lead the way Colonel."

She nodded her thanks and walked up the ramp, sneaking a peek to see if he followed behind, smirking slyly when she saw the fascination on his face. If only he knew what followed next.

He swallowed nervously not knowing what to expect, yet the adrenaline bursting through his system indicated that he was curious to what awaited. Next to him, Sam studied his posture, eyes halting on his expression, and then she shoved him forward watching how his body vanished from view.


	7. Land of Sky Blue Water

**Chapter 07** : Land of Sky Blue Water

"What the hell?"

Jack muttered as he re-emerged on the planet. He turned on his heels, startled as the Gate shut down, and then spun back to his previous position, eyes frantically scanning the area.

"Whoa, what a rush."

"That's what they all say." Sam replied nonchalantly.

He strode forward gaze lingering on the lake in the distance. "Weren't we?"

"Yes we were." She nodded in confirmation. ". . . travelled approximately five thousand light years in a few seconds. Give or take."

"That's . . ." Jack looked at his smiling wife. " _Far._ Where are we?"

"P3X-234."

"A star designation? We're on a star?"

Her facial features lit up in surprise. "Very good. No, actually this is a planet similar to that of Minnesota, as you can see."

"I can see that, yes." He walked forward admiring the view.

Luscious green grass stretched across the landscape, whereas, a dense forest mounted above this, covering most of the terrain. To the north, a body of water situated within this woodland, while mountains lined the distant horizon.

"Land of sky blue water . . ." Came his whispered reply, yet she heard enough to quirk a smile.

"I'll take you to the lake."

She walked on by, leading the way while he did a three-sixty-degree turn before following suit, joining her stride as he admired the elegance of the planet.

The trek lasted thirty minutes, the couple's boots now treading upon the beach bordering the lake.

During the journey, Jack had been uncannily quiet, enough so, that she had begun to worry. Newcomers usually never stopped verbalizing their fascination, yet her husband showed no signs of excitement, instead, he had grabbed a few smooth stones along the way, something to keep his mind preoccupied, tame his fidgeting.

 _Either your attention's captivated with something that exceeds this, or you are still angry about the past day's events. It's reasonable; I don't know how I would've reacted if the roles were reversed._

 _It needs addressing before I could even think of asking for your help, seeing that it would resemble a slap on the cheek if I got straight to the point. No, I have to focus on our relationship, come clean about my secrecy._

Jack glimpsed her far-off gaze.

"I can see the smoke coming from your ears, Colonel. Overthinking again?"

"Apparently, I'm not the only one." She said whilst noting his tentative expression, as his eyes examined the sand that extended in opposite directions.

"I've just discovered my wife's a superhero, who has the best job . . . in the universe."

Jack snickered as he threw a stone along the water's surface, watched as it left ripples in its wake.

"Wow! Did I just say that?" He paused briefly as the words sunk in. " _The universe_ . . . never thought it possible. It's stuff of movies and comic books, but here we are, on another planet that could be earth for crying out loud."

"It's truly amazing I admit. Even after twelve years, it still takes my breath away, particularly this planet. It will always have a place on my favourite list."

An awkward silence occurred between them, despite the stones leaping across the water. Jack released the last one, and moved to sit down on the soft sand, Sam quickly scanning the area before joining him.

"I didn't mean to hurt you Jack." She began hoping it would help break the tension between them. "You have to understand . . ."

"That's just the thing, I don't understand. How could you hide this from me for so long? Was our marriage just another mission to you?"

"No, in fact, I was advised against it for this very reason. I admit my superiors did order me to get close to you in the beginning." He shook his head in disdain, yet she carried on. "Then as I did, I realized you were innocent, a loyal and dedicated man."

"Oh please." He scoffed.

She flinched, yet continued to explain, "I wasn't the only one. General Hammond my C.O. at the time was convinced that you were being framed."

"Which would've been the perfect opportunity to inform me, explain the situation, and retract yourself from my life."

"It wasn't that simple."

"Dammit Samantha!" His outburst startled her as she suddenly recoiled as if stung. "It was _that simple_. A simple word; a simple explanation, Samantha, is all it took to persuade me that I was a target."

He paused briefly calming his simmering anger. "Do you understand the meaning of the word _betrayal?_ " His gaze slowly panned towards her, eyes blazing. "Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

The words echoed unusually composed, something his wife had never experienced before. She was looking at a man she barely knew. Tears threatened to fall, welling in her eyes but she faithfully held his livid glare.

"What about me? How did you think I felt? It wasn't easy you know, following a blueprint set out by the enemy and my superiors. That's what I do, that's who I am Jack, I follow orders like I was trained to do. To hell with the unfortunate sap who got in the way. Yes!"

Sam got to her feet, throwing her hands in air as she continued to mock him. "That's me, purposefully hurting those who deserve better. Arrogant, selfish and unsympathetic; I really love walking over people to suit my needs. Does it sound like me Jack? Does it fit your opinion of me or am I just as ruthless as the men who killed your family? Just as cold-hearted as you when you disposed of 'em?"

Shock registered on his face as he gazed up at her. No one knew this specific detail except for the investigator who helped him.

"How?" It felt as if the world had disappeared underneath him.

"Do you know how much blood, sweat, and tears it took to achieve this?"

She motioned at the serene landscape.

"No, you don't. You've been locked up in a world that had declared you as a traitor. If it wasn't for the SGC's initiative, you'd be rotting in jail with no one to love and no one to bother proving your innocence. I did it out of my own freewill. My love for you has never been false, never had I ever faked my care, compassion, or my trust in you. Instead, I did everything in my power to save you. Do you know of anyone who would've done the same thing?"

She turned her back on him, staring at the horizon.

"Or are you still stuck in a world full of pain, where people hurt one another, where people suffer for no apparent reason? Where the enemy is a man with an assault rifle and the innocent women and children? I have news for you Jack, that's a small world. Try defending a universe full of diverse races, who fear advanced men and women imitating Egyptian gods. Try saving innocent lives from an enemy that devours technology like rats. From a race with godlike abilities that wants nothing more than dedication or death if you dare to defy them. You'll see that your world is but a speck compared to what's out here. You'll note that your life has always been a part of that war, one man chosen out of billions, because he was deemed significant, because someone took notice of him. Now he would throw it back at the Organization who made the decision to protect him . . . who's the arrogant one?"

A long pause arose as Jack mulled over her words.

"I hadn't thought about it in that way." He softly replied as he placed his head in his hands. "Maybe it's a good thing I never signed that confidentiality agreement all those years ago."

Her brow furrowed in confusion as she glanced over her shoulder. "Come again."

"I think I would have been unprofessional, you know, in keeping my distance." He gestured between them to demonstrate what he meant.

Tilting her body towards him, Sam simply replied, "I disagree. I think we could have been able to, since we both hold our duty in high regard . . . it would've been an honour serving alongside you. I believe these alone make it bearable."

"Then our marriage, albeit tainted, would be termed as a fantasy."

"True, yet the separate lives and deceit – never have happened, and due to our presence on and off the battlefield, our lives would be separated by military regulations."

"I couldn't have lived like that knowing what I do now." He said.

"Seems you've made peace with what I did."

"It does, doesn't it?" Jack dusted sand from his slacks and strode towards his wife. "You made a compelling statement. Well, a few statements, but convincing nonetheless. An idiot would slap me for not seeing the sacrifice and sincerity, which went into this whole ordeal. However, I do have one last question before we put this to bed."

"Yes." Her eyebrow raised in curiosity, whereas deep down she hid her relief.

He swallowed the swift anger, and then grabbed her by the shoulders. "How . . . how did you know about?"

Anticipating his question, Sam quickly replied, "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have. It must have hurt terribly."

He nodded in lieu of an agreement.

"Before our marriage, Hammond ordered me to do an in-depth background check on you. Said it was of vital importance that no one except my team know about what happened."

"They know?" She curtly nodded. "They don't blame me?"

"Actually, they would've done the same thing."

Jack shook his head. "No, they wouldn't. It's the only thing I regret not doing."

"I don't understand." She replied puzzled.

"It only appears as if the men vanished into thin air – as in murdered by yours truly. Fact is, the investigator made sure the culprits received the appropriate punishment. In their own country." Laughter rattled in his chest. "Bunch of truthful folks we are."

"No kidding." She sighed as the weight of the world fell away. "I guess we're even now, except for my outburst."

"I believe so. Although surprising, what you said was eye – opening. It's just gonna take a while for the ol' brain to see you as someone more than Sammy O'Neill."

She pulled him closer whispering in his ear. "Honestly, you're the only one who understands the real me. The rest is just an extension of who I am."

"Could've fooled me."

Sam retracted from the embrace frowning at his statement, however, he quickly explained.

"All I ask is for some patience to absorb all of this, considering that I've been thrown quite a bit these last twenty-four hours. I'm on another planet for crying out loud! How mind-boggling is that!"

She stifled a snicker, enjoying his fascinated countenance.

"Fair enough, I would've requested the same." Her gaze softened as she nodded in understanding.

"Thank you. Now, I know you didn't bring me here just to reason with me." A wry smile curled his lips. "Spill the beans."

"All of a sudden you're sucha an expert." She said, punching his shoulder.

"Seriously?" He faked a perplexed expression. "Intelligence Officer, remember darling."

"I know. That's why I came prepared."

She grabbed the tablet attached to the back of her vest. An action that surprised her husband as he gazed curiously, observing how she activated the device, and handed it over.

Bidding his thanks, he replied. "Forgive my bluntness, but . . . " His one eyebrow raised with the question.

She smiled wryly, and accessed the folder containing hundreds of images. Her forefinger tapped once and the first snapshot jumped into frame. Swiping it to the left, the following picture appeared.

"Okay, I got it. I got it." He replied with a dip of his head. "So what am I looking at besides surveillance photos of random folks?"

He paused briefly after a few snapshots.

"Not so random after all. They're the same except the time stamp says otherwise." He looked at her motioning at the tablet. "These are of my watering holes in Washington back when I was still a rookie. Where did you get these? My C.O. said it would never be admitted, since it was a practice session."

"I may be an astrophysicist, but I do know how to hack the Pentagon." Sam declared smugly. "So you were?"

"Yes, I was carrying out a covert training mission; well, not so secretive anymore."

"Do you recognize anyone?"

"Besides the person I was assigned to observe."

" _Jack_." Sam warned.

"Besides the target, there were five soldiers assigned to watch me. Which was standard protocol for someone in training."

"You were to evade them as well as track the target."

He canted his head slightly, smiling shrewdly.

She shrugged. "I suppose that's why they were there. All right, I will leave you to it, maybe there's something or someone you know that we missed. Considering that, you're trained for this sort of thing."

"Cute Sam, very cute." He declared sarcastically as he flitted from image to image. "This might take a while."

"All the time in the universe Jack, there's no rush." Sam teased.

He scowled in return, examined the lake once more, and sat down with tablet positioned on his knees. And prepared himself for a tedious time ahead.

* * *

 **Sixty Minutes later**

"Oy! Me eyes." Jack complained as he rubbed his eyelids. "You expect me to scan through years of surveillance and find the needle in the haystack. Shouldn't you be the experts? Look at this." He gestured at the surroundings. "How covert can you get?"

"A fresh set of eyes never hurt anyone."

"It's hurting mine. I swear they're blood red."

Sam seized his chin turning his gaze towards hers.

"Nope, just as chocolate brown as the day I met you."

He squinted scrutinizing her straight-faced expression.

"Flattery my dear wife? Dang, so it must be bad. They are murky."

She tapped his cheek softly.

"You've found something haven't you? Explains your complaining."

A sly smile curled her lips as he faked his innocence.

"Eyes don't lie, Jack." She playfully stated.

"Well, mine are saying I'm tired; exhausted; beat; a little bored, maybe; definitely frustrated." He shrugged. "Yeah, that about covers it."

Ignoring him, she snatched the tablet from his hands, and perused the image of an outdoor coffee shop with large colourful umbrellas on its screen.

"You _did_ find something." She declared excited, meeting his devious countenance.

Looking down again, she double tapped and the image enlarged. Her eyes methodically searched through the seated crowd, 'til her forefinger halted.

"That's you." She exclaimed.

"Naturally, seeing that I am the main character in this spy movie."

Bumping Jack's shoulder in annoyance, she explained, "No surprise there, but what's interesting is the man sitting slightly to your left. Disguised himself to look like someone else, but not well enough though. Damn, how could we have missed this?"

"Mr Drake." Jack simply said, but she could hear the anger in his voice.

"No, that's Colonel Frank Simmons." Sam corrected, brow furrowing.

"He was Mr Drake to me. A valuable contact until he died . . . quite mysteriously. No body found."

She chuckled nervously, clearing her throat before replying, "Colonel Sheppard's kinda the reason he died so . . . _unexpectedly_."

"Tell me more." He queried curiously.

Sam relayed by way of demonstration, his gaze following the action.

"Lost in flight was he now? Poor chap, his information never disappointed."

"May I ask?" Her eyebrow raised in question waiting expectantly.

"Since we're nowhere near Earth, I'm certain it won't hurt anyone."

"None whatsoever."

Jack scrutinized her innocent demeanour. "Forgot how subtle you can be."

"All in the name of truth." She stated joyously.

"Whatever." He waved dismissively, eliciting a cheeky smile from his wife.

"Basically I know everything there is about our neighbouring countries, especially those who call themselves our alias. Mr Drake here supplied Intel regarding the Russians, what they were up to and so forth."

"The Russians? Why do you think they're involved?"

She had an inkling yet sought to hear what Jack had to say.

"I've foiled many of their plans; it would be no surprise if they were the ones behind this pathetic scheme. They tend to hold a grudge."

"Jack, are you sure it's them?" Sam asked incredulous.

"I didn't comb through years of evidence just to give you a false lead, Sam. I've been in the gig long enough to distinguish a bad apple from a good one. Drake definitely fits the former, and you've just confirmed his dealings with the SGC, not to mention, that you both have a shared interest in Russia."

Merely nodding her confirmation, Sam retorted in a gentle tone, "Sorry, I had to ask. Once I inform my superiors, things will deteriorate before it gets better. For Russia to be involved – let's just say, if they've waited until now proves they mean to inflict severe damage."

"What did you do to tick them off?"

"Our alliance has been less than courteous, but we gave them blueprints to a battle cruiser in compensation. Then we asked for their assistance in battle." Sam winced apologetic. "Unfortunately it was destroyed."

"Wait a second . . . you have spaceships, as in the _Star Wars_ kind?"

"Didn't I mention that?" She chuckled nervously.

"No, you forgot _that_ important detail. And if something significant of mine was destroyed, I would be pissed too."

"Actually, we've done a lot more . . . "

"Yeah, then it's definitely the Russians – a whole lot of bad apples, Sam, rotten apples coming your way."

"Whoopee, just when we thought we're in the clear, this happens." She mocked. "We should probably head back."

"Do we have to?" He whined. "Can't you . . . you know, take me for a spin?"

A childlike smile appeared and Sam did her best to ignore the apparent plead.

She shook her head. "I'm afraid . . ."

"C'mon!" Jack interjected as he rose to his feet. "The universe is big, and this can't be the only planet. Please, Sammy. Think of it like a joyride on your Indian." Sam smirked as she recalled the memory, and then bobbed her chin in agreement.

"Sweet."

Jack extended his hand towards her, and when she accepted, pulled her upright. He motioned in the Gate's direction.

"Lead the way, Colonel O'Neill."

"Why thank you, General O'Neill."

Sam replied sweetly as she reattached the tablet to her vest and strolled forward, Jack following her stride.

* * *

About twenty metres away from the Stargate, the Colonel discontinued, while Jack walked by oblivious.

"General." Sam called after him.

"Hmm." Jack hummed clearly lost in thought.

"You should stop."

Halting abruptly, he side glanced at his wife with a frown. "What's up?"

"Before we leave, I would like to introduce you to some friends of mine."

Sam activated her radio and said, "You can come out now."

"Someone's been here all along?"

"It was just a safety precaution. The team tends to run in to trouble off-world."

"But this is an uninhabited planet."

"Even those can turn deadly. Believe me."

"Trying to." Jack said annoyed.

"I thought we fixed our indifferences?" Sam retorted exasperated.

"Not if you carry on like this." He hissed angrily, noting the approaching men.

Without a word, the couple moved forward meeting the team at the DHD.

"Howdie partners." Jack waved mockingly, forcing a smile.

Beside him, Sam did the same, however gestured at the Jaffa. "This is Teal'c. He's from Chulak."

The General gestured at the dark-skinned man. "Golden snake on his forehead is a dead giveaway."

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, O'Neill." The Jaffa curtsied his chin.

"Back at ya big guy!" He said reluctantly, pointing at the man next to him. "Daniel Jackson, I've met. _Briefly_."

Dr Jackson waved curtly. "Short-lived it was indeed."

"Yeah, I have that effect on people." Jack bit back.

"We know." He mumbled annoyed.

Jack ignored the archaeologist, eyes squinting, before he set his sights on the soldier to his far right.

"Colonel Sheppard."

He pretended to search the area for something before his eyes locked with the smirking soldier.

"No black sedan?"

"It's good to see you too, Sir." Sheppard sneered broadly.

"Still thinking about the _good_ part." His stern gaze panned towards the arrogant looking man next to Sheppard. "And you are?"

"Dr Rodney McKay. Foremost expert on the Star . . ."

"Don't care."

"Hey, if wasn't for . . ."

"It's duly noted McFly."

Sam stifled a giggle, while the rest smiled thankful for the gruff response.

"It's McKay." Rodney grumbled as he folded his arms over his chest, clearly not happy about the General's behaviour.

The last soldier stepped forward, hand extended. Jack's eyes scrutinized the action with squinted eyelids, before he examined the eager beaver.

"I'm Lt Colonel Cameron Mitchell, sucha an honour to meet you, Sir."

The General accepted the handshake wary of the broad smile on Mitchell's lips. "Apparently, you're not the only one. Don't know why though."

"You're a legend, General."

Jack released his hand allowing a small smirk to quirk his lips.

"Well, then it's a pleasure to meet you too Lt Colonel." He gazed at his wife. "Any more surprises? Should I expect a platoon any time soon? Maybe a hidden spaceship."

The Colonel tensed under his mocking glare. Instead, she overlooked him, addressing the men standing before her. "Daniel. Teal'c."

She quickly retrieved the tablet from its position and then handed it over with a pleasant smile.

"General O'Neill has identified a key piece of Intel. Could you take this through to the SGC and dig a little deeper? It should be done without alerting outside parties."

" _Okay_ . . ." Daniel elongated the word waiting for an explanation.

"The rest of us will be escorting the General around the Milky Way."

At the mention, Rodney's arms fell from their folded position, Sam quickly forestalling with a raised hand.

"As a good show of faith, McKay." She warned. "Daniel." She directed her chin towards the Dial Home Device, the cue to dial before an internal war erupted amidst the group.


	8. Mending Fences

**Chapter 08** : Mending Fences

 **Stargate Command** **Briefing Room**

After their return, Colonel Carter had disposed of her gear, and then made her way to the briefing room where she now stood at attention awaiting General Landry to exit his office.

"At ease Colonel." He casually stated, while grabbing the chair at the head of the table. Sam adhered and walked towards the one to his right and kindly took her seat.

"Daniel and Teal'c came and went informing that General O'Neill identified something significant, and as a result you'd promised a wonderful sideshow. Am I wrong?"

"No Sir; sums it up nicely."

"I believe it was worth it?" Hank's brow furrowed with the inquiry.

"Besides the light entertainment, I think it was. The reward was well earned."

"Excellent!" He clapped his hands together and then smiled delighted. "Mind filling me in? Considering that, Dr Jackson made sure to avoid me at all costs, and Tealc – just raised his eyebrow as reply."

"Of course General." Sam chuckled softly. "General O'Neill pointed out that he'd received valuable information from a Mister Drake. However, upon closer inspection it had actually been an exchange of intelligence with the deceased Colonel Frank Simmons."

"Oh really." His tone relayed surprise, yet his eyes revealed swift recognition, especially with what followed.

"That's not all. Appears Russia's involved."

"To what end? Our differences are settled and they made themselves scarce, both to the President, and to Homeworld's satisfaction. And there was no indication that they were the ones blackmailing our government."

"I know. It's been a head scratcher for me as well. Apparently, General O'Neill has done plenty to provoke this type of attention, and thus I took the liberty of instructing Daniel and T to dig deeper into Russia's agenda, especially their interest in smearing the General's name through the mud."

"Good thinking, Colonel. Did O'Neill bring more to the table . . . information wise? It was one of the reasons why we captured him, not only due to the allegation's intensity. "

Sam cleared her throat, feeling slightly awkward. "I get the feeling that he's withholding something. Don't know what it is exactly, but I can tell it's eating at his conscience."

"Why? If he's keen on exonerating himself, then he would place all his cards on the table. I most certainly would."

"He has more than just cards in his possession, General. He is trained to bluff, trained to expose and taught to extract vital info unknowingly. He may have purposefully given this clue to see what we knew, and inadvertently, we walked right into his trap."

"This is your husband we're discussing, and I can see that's it's uncomfortable for you, but I need to know if you're capable of completing your original assignment? We have to dig deeper, discover what he knows – promptly. Not only for this country's sake, but for the Stargate's sake as well. If it is the Russians, I fear they may have a threat in the pipeline, and if O'Neill holds the key." Landry left the sentence hanging patiently waiting for a reply.

"Now that the SGC has a proper foothold in the situation, I understand the importance, Sir."

Sam paused, wincing in embarrassment. It was never easy conversing about the dealings of your loved ones, particularly with your superior.

"He's rather intermittent towards me, especially on the topic of secrecy. Either he's really taken offense, or he's trying to hide secrets of his own. If I play along with his behaviour, give the sense of security; allow him to deal with this accusation and my current position as a Colonel, I believe I can burrow my way in, and complete my assigned task. I just . . ."

Discomfort etched her face, yet she fought well to contain it.

"I don't want to break my marriage apart, because I pushed too hard, yet I believe he will confide in me before this happens. He understands what's at stake."

"Okay," Hank agreed. "I trust you can handle this in a reasonable fashion, and I don't need to remind you that this is bigger than your husband. You may have made a judgement call, but you also agreed to live with the consequences of said decision. Those same instincts will guide you in this – don't neglect them. Many lives depend upon what this Organization does to fulfil its promise of universal protection. Something you've been fighting for these last twelve years."

"No pressure then." Sam replied sarcastically, however, secretly she was still anxious about the outcome.

"You've had worse. Fortunately, your team is on your side faithfully helping, therefore, I think I'll do some digging of my own; see what my contacts say about the matter."

"The more the merrier. May I?" Sam asked with a gesture of her head.

"Yes, you're dismissed. I believe General O'Neill will come around. Good luck Colonel."

She moved to leave, when Hank stopped her.

"I've seen the way he looks at you, Colonel. Even if this is unforgivable, his love will outweigh the deception. It's the timing that can be cruel."

Sam nodded curtly. "Patience is key – a luxury we don't have. Let's hope it swings in our favour, I'd really hate it if timing were the reason for the Stargate's exposure, that and a nation's spitefulness."

* * *

The sound of a moving dinner cart resonated down the corridor, as the Airman followed behind Colonel Carter. After a while, they halted with the Colonel addressing the guard on post, and positioned herself before the closed door.

She swallowed nervously, as her heart felt like escaping her ribcage. It would be no surprise if her hands started sweating.

Her husband Jack O'Neill situated beyond this door, and she was oblivious to how he would react; either he accepted her presence or rejected it with a few harsh words, as a knife could slice through the awkward tension.

Her knuckles collided with the metal a few times, and instantly, the door swung open revealing a happy and excited man. Sam startled at the scene, quickly recovered to quirk a sincere smile, and entered without saying a word.

Jack observed the dinner cart, permitting entrance with a gesture, and then closed the door once the soldier left. He turned to face her, eyes scanning her rigid, uncomfortable posture.

His wife always appeared level -headed; confident in his presence, but now she seemed uncertain of herself, as if they were meeting for the first time. Suddenly his heart ached for her embrace, yearned for her comfort – he just could not find in himself to submit.

Her forefinger gestured at the patches on his shoulder. "I see you found the surprise I left for you."

"I did."

Jack bounced on the balls of his feet.

"I'm now an honouree member of the SGC, and . . . those wings never disappoint."

His finger trailed over the Air Force badge on his shoulder, a grin gracing his features.

"I'm glad you like them. I also brought your favourite food."

"Great, I'm starving." He announced excited, grabbing the trays from the cart. "Shall we?"

Placing them on the table, he quickly pulled out a chair for Sam, and then did so for himself. One by one, the covers lifted from their plates revealing French fries, Greek salad and a tender, juicy steak.

His eyes focussed on the bowl next to her tray.

"Aw gross, blue jello. That's your favourite dessert? Dang! I wouldn't be surprised if they mixed mouthwash with gelatine, shoved it in the freezer and viola – disgusting jello."

Sam grabbed a fry from his plate.

"I get the point Jack, you hate blue jello. No need to rub it in. And don't get me started on cake."

"Hey, now cake is the crème ala crème. You don't get jello at parties or weddings for that matter. Cake . . . it makes everything seem so boring in comparison."

"You're sucha kid." She chuckled somewhat. "It's like the holy grail when it comes to you and your dessert. Inseparable. You'll do anything."

"Yeah sure ya betcha woman." Jack declared with a chaffed expression.

Laughter echoed in the room as the couple engaged in a light dinner conversation, up 'til the point when they grabbed for their desserts. Sam observed her husband's behaviour with interest – he had been unusually lively towards her, yet his posture portrayed differently. It's like he wanted to speak frankly, instead concealed it with jokes and mediocre chit chat.

 _Maybe I should delve a little deeper see what I can extract_.

"So." Sam began.

" _So_?" He raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently for her to continue.

"How did you like your tour of the galaxy?"

"Can't believe what I've been missing all these years."

"Your reply would've been different a few years ago."

"Nah, I disagree. The job description's not so different, the enemy is, and so is the reason."

He paused briefly to consider a thought before voicing it.

"I wonder how the other nations would react if all of this got out."

"I rather you didn't." She shook her head. "Trust me, I've seen the result, it's not something worth considering."

" _Trust._ " Jack muttered under his breath.

She winced. They were making progress; now one word threatened the mending.

"The team seems respective of their leader." He said quickly changing the subject. "It's not easy for men to accept a woman much less one that's a soldier."

Thankful for the consideration, she nodded in lieu of an agreement.

"True, it's was an uphill battle, but through the years the goal forged our unity. Besides, SG1's co-owned now. We're actually SG teams one and two."

"Seriously, you're being modest?" Jack gazed disbelieving.

"Okay, so I fought my way to the top. My command was always under a microscope, power hungry superiors waiting around every corner – it was infuriating."

"What a picture!" He chuckled, startling her at first but then she joined in.

"You don't think they actually did it?" He questioned deadpan.

"Oh, one can only imagine. Though, I wouldn't be surprised."

Sam forestalled biting her bottom lip as she carefully thought about the next topic.

"Would you consider joining the SGC?"

Surprise graced his countenance as Jack absorbed the question.

" _Curve ball_." His brow furrowed, clearly taken aback by the forthright approach. "Don't know, haven't really had the opportunity to think about it. I'm definitely too old for the field that's for sure."

"But not your experience, your reputation speaks volumes."

Jack raised his eyebrow in retort. "You offering me a job, Sam?"

"It's not up to me; however, if the top brass did ask I would recommend you for the Intelligence sector. They'd be fools not to offer you a position here."

"I'd say they've already played the fool, and it's not like I made it easy for them. I did vanish."

"You're here now, only thing that matters."

The couple shared a considerate gaze, until Sam broke eye contact, then cleared her throat dreading the following question.

"Jack, what are your thoughts about this . . ."

"The Russian thing?" He interjected. She nodded, her eyes not meeting his. "I was a distraction. They knew once they leaked the evidence, you would concentrate on the culprit. The Stargate's more of a risk than what I am to this country." Shrugging, he demonstrated with his thumb and forefinger. "Just a wee goldfish in a sea of sharks. I advise you use this knowledge wisely, because for Russia to have waited this long, means their plan of attack is revenge driven. Not something, you desire to have. Believe me, I'm feeling it."

"Any suggestions? You were basically schooled on them."

"I take it that you've come across as ignorant?" He questioned.

"Yes."

"Good. Filter through your evidence; comb it with a fine tooth. Identify rogue agents that are specifically connected with them. You need confessions. Find enough to meet their subtle attack. I bet you, that what they've accused me of is the very thing they've been doing, not against this government per se, but against this Base personally."

He paused briefly, while he studied her expression. "But you don't need me to tell you what you should or shouldn't do. You know this already, may even have a card up your sleeve."

"No, I don't." She gazed at him before her expression suddenly lit up.

"Oh I hate to ask."

"It's best that you don't."

"Oy!" Jack slumped in his chair, hand moving for his forehead.

 _Why do I even bother? It's apparent that the_ S _in SGC stands for_ Secret _more than what it does for_ Stargate

 _However . . ._

 _She's been forthright more than what I can say about myself. I just hope I can keep up with this charade, considering that I rather like being married to this beautiful, intelligent woman._

 _Yeah, it's gonna be a long night._


	9. Disclosure

**Chapter 09** : Disclosure

In the passing hours, Sam's unspoken revelation had gnawed at his mind. He knew exactly what it was and it haunted his dreams, moreover, her actions – how she graciously absorbed his backlashing like a sponge, made the eerie darkness even heavier. It pressed down on his conscience, his mind, and emotions, as if it sought to break him underneath its weight.

The fact was – her purpose was as clear as daylight. She had seen past his mask, his pretence, and now her actions were drilling its way through the secret hidden deep within. It was frustrating, mainly because he could feel her next to him, and the truth hastily demanded its freedom.

Jack squeezed her hand hoping she would sleep on; nonetheless, she stirred and gradually opened her eyes.

"I need to tell you something." He confessed with a grimace.

Sam scowled confused, visibly still half-asleep. "Now?"

"Can't sleep." Jack apologized.

She stared for a few moments before activating the lamp on the nightstand. The room basked in a dimly lit orange glow, and his eyes squinted with the sudden glint; shortly thereafter, he got out of bed.

"What's wrong?" She asked concerned, eyes following as her husband paced about.

"Ah. Uhm . . . how should I put this?" His gaze remained glued to the floor as he tried to find the words.

"I'm not really a Major General. Technically, I am, but not for the reasons you may think."

"You're not making any sense, Jack." Her frown deepened, yet within she celebrated her patience.

"My rank, my promotion, it didn't come from the DOD, it came from the President."

" _Yes_." She replied sceptically. "The Commander in Chief does approve the promotions of Generals. With your work at the Pentagon it would . . ."

Jack stopped, interjecting with a hasty outburst. "I am not who you think I am Sam." He sighed exasperated. "You're not the only one with a fake identity."

 **Washington D.C. –** **Oval Office, 2005**

"I'm curious. Why did you select your job profession, Jack?"

"To make a difference, Sir."

"What if you could make a difference within a global capacity? Have the opportunity to influence more than just this country."

"That would take some doing Mr President. I'm only one man – the world billions."

"You misunderstand. I'm offering you the opportunity to join an Organization that operates outside the bounds of this world."

Colonel O'Neill raised an eyebrow, expression incredulous. "What are you so subtly implying Sir?"

"Do you remember NORAD's visit in '94?"

"Vaguely, yes. They recalled me to active duty to assist with some archaeological find. I left before I could read the confidentiality agreement."

"You mean this one?"

President Hayes slid the document over the desk's surface and the Colonel grabbed it with an inquisitive brow.

"Where did you get this?" He asked.

"I'm the President of the United States."

O'Neill studied the man's smug expression.

"My bad. You were saying?"

"I think you should take a seat. This may take a while."

O'Neill gazed on, confused about the President's mysterious behaviour, and nevertheless, adhered as he sat down.

"Back to the Organization I mentioned – it first originated in '94, when an archaeological discovery from 1928 changed the way we as humans viewed the galaxy."

"You're saying we're not alone." The Colonel stifled a snicker, instead smiled mockingly.

"I reacted in a similar fashion when first read in." The President motioned at the closed laptop on the desk before him. "Take a look for yourself."

O'Neill adhered and reluctantly opened the lid – a play symbol displayed on the screen.

"Go ahead." Hayes insisted.

O'Neill depressed the Enter key and the video faded in from black, displaying a large circular device in the background. Two technicians in the foreground viewed it from what appeared to be an operations room. The angle then changed as the camera focussed on the device, while its inner ring spun in a clockwise position. Suddenly, the footage began to shake until a churning blue wave sprouted forth, and retracted into a substance that resembled a thin sheet of water.

The screen faded to black, leaving the Colonel gaping like a fish, uncertain if what he saw had actually occurred. It seemed surreal, yet so captivating at the same time.

"That . . ." His forefinger motioned at the screen, at a loss for words.

"Is a Stargate. If that's what you wanted to say." A sly smirk curled the President's lips. "It's a mode of transport . . . to other worlds similar to ours."

" _Other_ . . . _worlds_? As in . . ." His hand waved vaguely in the air, while an astonished expression laced his facial features.

"Science Fiction has suddenly become a reality, yes. So what do you think? Interested in knowing more?" Hayes' head tilted with the question.

Silence settled in, while the Colonel recalled the footage. With mind made up, his eyes connected with the man opposing him.

"It looks like you've already taken my participation into consideration."

"Smart man." Hayes gestured at the document. "Maybe you should sign it before we proceed with our conversation."

The Colonel quickly grabbed for the pen in his inner jacket pocket, scribbled down his signature in the respective places, and before he handed it over, stared for a few moments rethinking his actions. The document slid over to the President who accepted it with a broad smile, clearly satisfied with the outcome.

"Excellent!" He exclaimed excited. "Before we discuss your new position, I would like to draw your attention to another matter."

"Am I to expect these kinds of surprises more often?"

"Yes Colonel. Let's just say, that your life will never be dull."

"Who said my life was . . ."

Before O'Neill could finish the sentence, a white light shone brightly in the room, and he felt himself scooped away and rematerialize within a ship's Bridge. Yet this was no ordinary ship, but a spaceship. He could see the Pacific Ocean from an astronaut's viewpoint.

". . . Dull, Sir." He completed his sentence amazed.

"So nice to see you again, Colonel O'Neill, it's been a while."

When no reply came, General Hammond stood alongside the Colonel, both gazing at the earth below.

"I knew this was possible from a Shuttle's perspective, but never in a million years did I imagine this. It . . ."

"Takes your breath away." Hammond concluded in his Texan accent.

"Quite literally, Sir . . ." O'Neill did a double take, scrutinizing the balding man next to him. "General Hammond? But you? You're?"

"Yes, I am."

"That means." He stared at the floor, mind churning as if cream, and then diverted his gaze to the observation window. "This is what deep space telemetry looks like?"

George chuckled softly. "I believe so."

"Sam?" He asked.

Hammond nodded in lieu of a verbal reply, and the Colonel's heart skipped a beat.

"She's." He managed before the General came to his rescue.

"Maybe we should discuss this in a less distracting environment." He grabbed O'Neill's bicep, gently pulling him from his spot. "Come, they've prepared a small conference room for this occasion."

"Sure." He cleared his throat quickly composing himself. "Lead the way, General."

* * *

 **Ninety minutes later**

"Am I correct to assume that you've had me on the list for quite a while?" O'Neill asked incredulous.

"Yes, we've been considering it for the last few years."

"Not to sound ungrateful, Sir . . . why me? Why now? I have absolutely no experience in this field, yet you would assign me as your successor. Doesn't make sense."

"Don't underestimate your contribution to the intelligence world, Jack, and what's beyond it would take some doing. Nevertheless, the President is confident that when my term at Homeworld Security concludes, you would be schooled in all things relating to Stargate operations."

"I'm flattered, I suppose, however, I will still be limited in my knowledge, considering that you've claimed their flagship team as _a no go zone_. Furthermore, I'm not allowed to set foot within the facility. The very Organization I am to manage. Correct?" His eyebrow quirked with the question.

Hammond curtly nodded. "Affirmative."

"You see, doesn't make sense. How can you lead your platoon, if you don't know who or what they are?"

"It's a valid question, Colonel. I understand your sense of duty and your need to be in the thick of things, but you'll be required to act discreetly. Thus your position – shadowing my command until I believe you're prudent to succeed me. You'll have access to everything . . ."

"Except the SGC and their so-called classified team." O'Neill rudely interjected, clearly revealing his disagreement.

"Yet you will be sent on secret missions via the battle cruiser Odyssey as I see fit – an opportunity to see what we do off-world."

"I get the feeling that there's more to this than meets the eye." His gaze scrutinized the General's patient demeanour.

"Actually, there is."

"I knew it." O'Neill declared satisfied. "Sam the reason?"

"Russia is."

Confusion etched O'Neill's countenance. "What?"

"Ostensibly, you've been on their radar since '97, therefore you've been on ours."

"Too good to be true, hey." He scoffed. "Explains your intentions."

"You would've been on the short list whether or not an outside party was involved."

"Why?"

"They've branded you as a traitor – selling their state secrets to neighbouring countries, etc."

"Which is absurd. I've done nothing but protect my country, faithfully. Plus, there's no _actual_ evidence linking me to the Russians or to any other country for that matter."

Hammond studied the Colonel for a few moments before replying.

"You would be correct unless they purposefully framed you, which they did, quite successfully. I saw no other way but to bring you on board."

O'Neill mulled for a bit, brow furrowing dubiously. "And the DOD . . . what did they have to say?"

"They've accepted the allegation." Came the General's blunt retort.

"They what?" Jack nearly jumped to his feet, bewildered. "After everything I've done for them."

"You have the SGC and the President to thank. We did everything in our power to protect you until this appointed time."

Leaning forward in his chair, hands intertwining on the table before him, the Colonel spoke methodical.

"Let me get this straight – my government, the one I devoted my life to, decided to dump me like yesterday's news, and you, who serves both earth and _other_ worlds, took pity on me. What have I been doing these last few years? Do you know that you've just toppled the way I look at life?"

"I do, but consider _the why_ , Colonel."

O'Neill relaxed in his chair. Unhappy about the turn of events, anger laced his next words.

"My life's been a game of chess, the government moving me wherever they wished without so much as breathing a word to yours truly. You ask me to consider _the why._ I'm a bloody court jester for crying out loud. A fool for thinking I made a difference, while the Pentagon allowed a foreign country to frame me for espionage."

"Please Jack, look at the bigger picture. Your wife's at risk as well, that is why they've targeted you. You're not the only piece on the board."

"Feels like it. How are the Russians going about this? Tailing me? Bugged my office and homes? Planted incriminating evidence?" He paused to compose his annoyance, and then questioned, livid that he had been blind all these years. "How could the Pentagon have allowed this preposterous ploy?"

"There's no proof on paper, but they've been blackmailing the US Intelligence Sector for years. How else do nations know what counter measures to put in place if such Intel's not shared. Nevertheless, the Pentagon succeeded by keeping Russia away from Stargate Command. That was until they discovered a 'Gate of their own, we had no choice but to let them in. They made a mess of things later on, and as a result, the President excluded them from Stargate operations. Ever since then, they've been trying to get a foothold, and they believe that if they expose you as one of their own, they can finally enjoy a piece of the pie."

The men studied one another for a while, before O'Neill goaded, eyes squinted.

"I'm curious, what do you gain by doing this?"

Hammond smiled slyly.

"I know what's it's like to deal with a government that's labelled you as a threat. The SGC's been on the outskirts for a very long time. But to answer your question, I gain a successor of course, someone who will take this Organization to the next level. I would have proven you an innocent man and the SGC a worthy political opponent. We take care of our own Colonel even if the odds are against us."

Curtly nodding, O'Neill waved dismissively. "I'm sure it paints a _lovely_ picture, but it still doesn't explain this crap."

"It will in due time. We don't know what their deadline is just yet, however I have the notion that when they do threaten to expose you . . . the Stargate Program included, it would serve as a possible diversion for something much greater."

The General paused, gazed at his hands to think for a moment, lifted his chin, and then spoke with authority.

"Therefore, you will receive a promotion to Brigadier General, return to the DOD as if this never took place, moreover, you will continue your work there, while I train you for this position. Even after the flagship team arrests and questions you at the appointed time, you will remain _ignorant_ of all things Stargate related. For the sake of appearances, it is vital that Russia stays in the dark, especially your wife. Are we clear _General_ O'Neill?" His eyebrow raised in concordance.

"Crystal. Sir."

* * *

 **Present Day**

Sam sat immobilized, gazing at her husband with a blank countenance.

"Please, say something. Anything." He pleaded.

"You've known. All this time." Her eyes lowered to the tangled bed sheets, a scowl lacing her facial features. "Why then did Hammond instruct the team to keep track of you?"

"I don't know about SG1's orders. After George's retirement, General Ian Willis received the designation to handle your reports. I had strict instructions to stay away."

Her eyes lifted to Jack's position, where he sat at the table.

"I imagine General Hammond required authenticity for his plan to work. You certainly played your part. Had me fooled."

Silence enveloped the room, tension rising like a skyscraper.

"Holy Hannah!"

The unexpected exclamation startled her husband.

"You duped me." She continued her voice laced with anger. "The Stargate, the planets, when you fired the Zat gun – you've been off-world before. Your reaction was a dead giveaway, but I flagged it as asinine, arguing that you were still angry with me. You deceived us, me."

"I was under the impression that you operated only as an astrophysicist, not that you were a part of the flagship team. Frankly, if I'd known you were on the battlefield, I wouldn't . . ."

"You wouldn't have what?" She interjected, upset. "Permitted me to do my work?"

"I would have declined the position; on the other hand, I had no choice."

"Oh no, you did. You could've apprised me of the situation."

"Like you informed me?" He jabbed in return.

"It was a matter of national security." She explained.

"You may justify your actions, but I have to beg for forgiveness? What the hell Carter!"

He vacated his seat, the chair colliding with the wall behind him with a loud crash. She jolted abruptly, glaring with tears in her eyes.

"We're guilty of the same thing and we keep justifying it with devotion, when we can't even be honest with each other."

"What are you implying?" Sam asked, her voice echoing barely audible.

"That more than just our positions have bound our marriage. What has really kept it going all these years? Certainly not our work, but our sincere love for one another. We didn't allow this government to shred our bond, but our careers. That is so unlike what I had pictured when I joined the army. My rank was my life. My family, whom I loved very much, had to fit accordingly. Yet now, their deaths and our relationship have changed my perspective. I did what I had to do for your sake. What would have happened if I didn't? You gave me the answer back on the planet – I would be alone. What you have done for this place and for me – it is pretty much the same thing. I do think that loyalty to the Air Force has solidified my care for you, even more so when Hammond recruited me."

There was a long pause as they stared at one another, Sam mulling over her husband's reply with deep consideration.

"We both then have sacrificed our integrity so that earth could be saved." She said after a while, and Jack gazed on with interest.

She continued with a tired countenance. "Yet our marriage survived because we were both protecting one another by means of deception. How could we have lived like this? It's the opposite of what a relationship should be like."

He moved from the table, and came about to join her on the bed.

"We certainly fulfilled our promise – keeping each other safe 'til death do us part." He smirked at the irony.

"No kidding." She said, body quivering with a chuckle. "This is strange. We should be tearing each other apart, yet we are justifying our actions with a _for greater good_ sentiment. Other couples would've . . ."

"Sued the pants off each other." He said taking her hands in his. "I know I find this a little disturbing, crazy, but strangely calm."

"Everything's out in the open now." She agreed. However, deep within, she loathed the deceitful surrender.

"Agreed, still, we have to talk this through, Sam. The work may justify our secretive nature, but I think our trust will cease to be the same."

The tone in his voice suddenly sent a shiver down her spine.

Finally, they were on equal terms, yet somehow it felt burdensome, and not as effortless as she had expected. Both had followed orders, placed their separate assignments above their marriage, both oblivious to the consequences.

Jack was correct, they had lied to each other, used deceptive personas to shield each other from the truth, but both had revealed their true selves during those false identities – the only thing that was not a lie.

Why then was trust such a difficult task? Was he hiding more than he let on? She knew that her slate was clean, as he now knew everything about the SGC's undertakings.

Nevertheless, something about Jack still unnerved her.

Hammond may have reassigned her husband, promoted him to Homeworld Security in '05; but by then, the SGC had saved the world from the Goa'uld and the Replicators. What had Jack truly accomplished since then?

She feared that this conversation – equalling the playing field, was still part of his deception, because Russia's schedule still stayed unclear, a threat they had to confront eventually.

Not to mention, that if this was how they dealt with the truth, without so much as a severe conflict, something bad awaited them in the near future. Furthermore, she feared that Jack O'Neill knew exactly what that future entailed.

"Maybe there is a way to settle our . . . differences." Sam replied.

Jack's eyebrow raised with the suggestion, confused with her sudden change in behaviour. He could have sworn he heard a cunning tone in her voice, and wondered if this was a ploy to dig deeper.

 _Not to fret – secrecy is the name of the game, and trust is just a give or take kinda action. Let's receive shall we._

"I'm listening." He said, eyes searching her relaxed posture, until they came to rest on her eyes where the truth truly beamed.

She may have achieved classified status, but from here on out, his wife was way in over her head. He could see it in the manner she held her posture, the way her throat swallowed hiding the rising anxiety, and the way her lips curled into a soft grin.

 _Our_ trust _will cease to be the same._ He thought.

"War can only be fought if the winning side is confident it can defeat its enemy." She began, Jack merely dipping his head for her to continue.

"For years, the battle's been raging on a verbal level. Brewing and brewing and brewing, but nothing's really happened. I believe that instead of waiting for them to put their Queen in to play, Homeworld should take the fight to them. Call their so-called bluff. Strike while the iron's hot."


	10. Let the Games Begin

**Chapter 10** : Let the Games Begin

 **Landry's Office** – **Sixty Minutes Later**

"I understand by your expression that the President confirmed my position as your superior."

"Yes." Landry replied, eyes revealing the doubt he still had about the man's credibility, but he could not argue with orders.

"The President was crystal clear, Sir."

"Then you know what happens next." O'Neill's eyebrow lifted with the question, hiding a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The two star General reluctantly nodded his confirmation.

"Protocol states that I have to step in line following your orders, as per instruction without hesitation."

"Good. I'm glad we're on the same page."

"However . . ."

General O'Neill's confident demeanour faltered slightly. He was so sure this man would submit like an obedient dog, though he could not argue with someone who has had charge of the Base these last four years. He had the right to question a superior's motive, especially one who was termed as a traitor a few hours ago.

Hank Landry continued, "It's in my best interest that you be accompanied at all times, for the sake of policy as well as safety. I wouldn't want the President discharging me 'cause I neglected to protect you from danger." He paused fleetingly, O'Neill merely nodding in understanding. "This is a secure facility of course, but accidents do happen . . . I hope you understand my candour."

The Major General marked the expression lining the man's facial features. It reflected a hint of wryness concealed with a slight sternness, whereas his voice conveyed an undertone of a warning.

"I do, Hank, very clearly. I would expect nothing less from such an astute man like yourself. However, keep in mind who and what I am. You did accuse me of betraying my country, and in my opinion, that of course, is something you should reimburse . . ." Landry squirmed in his chair, triggering a sneer on the General's lips. ". . . for instance, I want a proper tour of this facility, while you arrange a thorough update of SG1 and 2's investigation, as per instruction of George Hammond and the President. I need to know _all_ before we move forward."

"That's a tall order, Sir." He retorted slightly taken aback by the forthright approach.

"I am the President's liaison, have been since achieving General status, and as I stated before, Hank, I expect nothing less. Do what you can; I know its short notice."

The Major General turned in his seat, eyeing the two Airmen on duty outside Landry's office.

"These men will do." He declared.

Glancing over his shoulder, he observed how Hank's shoulders stooped in defeat. A smile lingered as he said, "Don't worry, Hank, your position is not up for review."

He stood from his seated position, the two star General following suit, and once their eyes met, he added, "Nor is your decision to arrest me wrong in any way. Following orders is the lifeline of the Air Force, especially if you don't have the whole picture in view."

He extended his hand, which Hank gripped in reluctance.

"No harm no foul."

"No harm no foul." Landry repeated as he released O'Neill's hand and gestured for the Airmen to enter the office.

"General O'Neill has requested that you escort him through the Base."

The soldiers gazed at the General noting the two stars on his olive BDU, curtly nodding their confirmation.

"Begin with the Gate room and end on Level 16. Is this to your satisfaction General O'Neill?" Landry asked of Jack, who nodded in lieu of a verbal reply. "Once you've completed the tour, the briefing room will be the next destination, where SG1 and 2 will apprise you of their portion of the investigation."

"Thank you, General Landry." O'Neill replied politely, eyes regarding the man's rigid posture and unsatisfied expression lining his countenance.

He turned towards the soldiers bidding them to lead the way, and trailed behind with a slight jolt in his step, thinking, _keep up with your guarded behaviour Hank. Pay no mind to your superior, the threat's still out there and might be closer than you think. Remember, eyes wide open._

* * *

 **Astrophysics Lab –** **Sixty** **Minutes Ago**

"Shit! He knew all along." Sam called out in anger. "He lied to me."

Papers flew through the air as folders tumbled down from the toppling bookcase, which crashed to the floor with a cracking noise, and soon thereafter, a high pitch sound boomed in the lab, Sam slamming her fists against the table's surface.

They may have settled their differences back in the room, but there was no way it justified their pretence, and no apology could dissolve years of duplicity.

Nor did the act of planting a seed of attack vindicate her in any way.

A deep moan escaped her lips as the memory flashed again; she could feel the deceit burning within, his wry smile as he agreed with her, his affectionate expression afterwards, all, as if everything was well.

"Dammit! Why couldn't we have had a normal marriage like those perfect couples on TV? Like that ever exists in the real world, Sam. What did you expect would happen in the pretty world you painted for yourself? And, it's not like Jack's an open book. It's the life you chose, the life he chose. Lying is only an additive."

Heat spanned over her back, curling down her form as she snarled in anger. Her fists collided with the table once more.

"It was okay to be the only one hiding a secret, but now . . ."

 _Our team followed you around Jack, how did we fail to recognize we were tailing our superior,_ the _Major General of Homeworld Security. You avoided leaking this to any outside source. Strictly professional, by the book military operation, showing that you worked for the Pentagon since assigned there._

 _You went to other planets behind our backs, for crying out loud, pretending to be General Willis and brokered deals where we failed to do so._

"Perceptive little . . . since when do you follow orders _Jack_?" She spat his name like it was filth before continuing, "He has dealt the cards, Sam. Pick one and run with it."

She paused inhaling a deep breath soothing her tensed muscles, calming the storm within, and then allowed the breath to slip through her lips, but her mind keep up with the analytical feat.

"Jack is the world's foremost intelligence officer, and combined with his knowledge of the universe, Russia or any other country would gain no opportunity at a foothold. The Stargate will forever remain America's best kept secret."

 _All to protect us from outside parties seeking to unite earth under an international oversight advisory, a council who would be in control of Stargate Command's fate when the military screwed up. Self-seeking politicians deciding who climbed up the ladder, or faded away in a pile of paperwork, snakes choosing which country received advanced technology or not._

 _With my husband as commanding officer, the military remains in charge, and corrupt government officials wouldn't sink their teeth into the funds it generates every year to keep the 'Gate running._

 _Why keep this from your wife? Why would you not look attractive to the world's power hungry dictators? Why would you not have the weight of the world on your shoulders when you walked in to your home after a hard day's deception?_

"Millions of people are oblivious to the sacrifices each man and woman makes to keep this country safe. Keep our planet safe from further destruction. And you are a part of it all, Sam."

She let out a long sigh, suddenly drained by the self-debate, fighting convictions and analysis' only to justify the love for her husband.

 _My main problem is: can I continue trusting him? What more is he hiding? Could he be a traitor? He must have slipped up somewhere. Or have I been blind all along?_

 **Seven days prior to General O'Neill's Arrest**

" _You look different."_

 _"I am?" Jack questioned with a bemused expression._

 _He remained in the doorframe, his form alight by the sunlight outside, and as he stepped forward, I saw his countenance as soft and alluring as ever. This in Jack O'Neill's terms was a means to show he was indeed the same person._

 _Words were never his strong suit._

" _You are." I declared with brow still furrowed._

 _I continued to study his demeanour; he was as good-looking as the first day we met, and I yielded reflecting my appreciation with a shy grin. Holy Hannah, I was a lucky woman._

" _It's this damn cover again." He replied as he placed it on the coat stand. "Couldn't wait to get rid of the darn thing."_

 _His hair stood upright like a porcupine's and he smoothed it bit as he closed the front door behind him, and faced me again._

" _No, I don't think it's the cover." I shook my head slightly._

 _A long pause arose between us as we gazed at one another._

 _I noticed a leather wristband barely peeking underneath the hem of his sleeve, and glimpsed its green emerald glow in the sunlight. It was a new accessory, maybe a gift from a travelling employee._

 _Gifts like these were normal in his line of profession, and it's not like I haven't received plenty from friends off-world._

 _I liked the addition and lifted my eyes to examine his face._

 _His expression was soft, but I could see the difference in his eyes. They were sad, as if they had seen, no, correction, they had suffered loss. There was something else, the scar over his left eyebrow was suddenly noticeable, and his hair greyer than before. His whole countenance had aged in mere months._

 _In some way, this enticed me like a moth to a flame, and as if caught red-handed, he drew my attention away from his face by gesturing at his attire._

" _It's the dress blues, always has been an abhorrence." His lips quirked shrewdly._

 _"Never had a problem with those." I playfully teased._

 _"I know."_

 _He muttered the words under his breath, the sly smile deepening on his expression. My legs felt like buckling as he closed the gap between us, and aware of my frozen posture, he curled his arms around my waist._

" _Maybe it's because I forgot this . . ."_

 _Jack captured my lips with his, deepening the kiss with each passing second. I responded in kind, as he absorbed my presence like a sponge, desperate to clench his thirst. And it is not that I minded the heartfelt welcoming, but my analytical mind lingered on the fact that something was different._

 _It could be his work. Hours spent analysing data collected by analysts was a task he loathed since becoming a Major General. He still longed for the days he spent in the field, infiltrating corrupt government organisations and identifying rogue agents both here and abroad._

 _Jack O'Neill never enjoyed being the man in charge, and it seemed as if retirement was closer than once believed._

 _Our lips parted, both desperate for breath, and then he coaxed my lips tenderly before stopping altogether. His forehead lingered on mine soaking silently in my presence once more._

" _I really missed you, Sam." He confessed affectionately._

 _I could both feel and hear the yearning love in his voice as it resonated in my chest. It surprised me and fared well to silence my doubt that he had changed in such a short time, though, there was one thing that still lingered in the recesses of my mind; the sense of fear that my husband somehow knew who I truly was._

 _I pushed it aside as I captured his lips, whispering in between pauses, "That's good to know."_

 _Perhaps my need for perfection drew unnecessary attention to his conduct. It's been twelve years, years I spent in deception justified by a good notion. Why would he be suspicious of me? Everyone around him managed to keep up with the game, so much so, that he was convinced all was well . . . however._

 _I could not shake the feeling that Jack knew exactly who and what I was, that he knew I was deceiving him, that the Pentagon had labelled him untrustworthy and thus waited for him to slip up._

 _Jonathan Jack O'Neill was the best asset they ever produced; they couldn't terminate him just yet, they would be snuffing valuable Intel, and as long as this charade continued, I had to endure with the decision I had made._

 _It was my life after all._

Annoying Klaxons drew Sam to the present, mind confused as to why the Self- Destruct had initiated unexpectedly, and by the third Klaxon, General Hammond's contradictory order finally made sense.

He had kept her husband away from the SGC and withheld classified information in regards to her team, for the very reason that the most damage could take place underneath Cheyenne Mountain. They were the essence, the lifeblood of Homeworld, and now it was under attack.

Jack had lied all along; it had been a ploy to infiltrate the facility.

The phone suddenly blared in the background and Sam quickly grabbed its headset.

"Colonel Carter the Self . . ." General Landry began, but she interrupted with a curt question, "Where's General O'Neill?"

"He asked for a . . ."

"The Self-Destruct is a diversion. We need to find him before he causes more damage."

"What? How?"

She imagined the wheels turning in the General's mind, but there was no time to explain. Russia was right on the money, and whether it was in their best interest to save the SGC or not, Jack had always been a spy.

"Please, Sir . . ." A loud explosion echoed over the phone interrupting her plea, and suddenly the line went dead.

She gasped, thinking, _my hesitation has placed innocent lives in jeopardy; people I respect and work with . . ._

 _General Landry's gone._

"Jack's a cold-blooded murderer."


	11. And the Winner is

**Chapter 11** : And the Winner is . . .

Sam O'Neill's sphere drifted in cloudy view, as her mind reeled with the idea that Jack had successfully severed the snake's head, and left the body to die, nevertheless she still had the means to stop further damage.

In this moment, she had to push Landry's possible death aside, had to take the lead and get to her husband as soon as possible.

She slammed the button next to the lab's door.

It slid open with a whoosh, and then she ran down the corridor towards the secondary armoury, grabbing a P-90, vest, Zat gun, and radio upon arrival. The elevator was the next target on her list and she quickly sprinted in its direction.

"Major Phelps, please respond." Sam released the talk button before trying again. "Major Phelps this is Colonel Carter, please respond." She cursed under her breath as the line distorted.

She knew all military forces focussed on Level 27, where the explosion had occurred, whereas the Self-Destruct room on Level 28 caused the civilians to evacuate the base. The only way she could keep track of events was via the monitoring station located on Level 16, the number she pressed on the panel after entering the elevator.

"Daniel. Teal'c. Please respond."

She crossed her fingers, hoping they would have secured radios of their own, but none complied.

"SG teams one and two, this is Colonel Carter. If you are listening, General O'Neill is a threat. I repeat: General O'Neill is a threat. Apprehend as soon as possible."

The elevator doors opened and she darted for the intended room, when Sheppard's voice came through on the radio.

"Sierra Golf Niner, this is Colonel Sheppard."

Sam stagnated before the door.

"Sheppard, ah thank goodness." She replied relieved as she entered the room and found Major Phelps unconscious on the floor.

Ostensibly, the General had stunned the poor man. Then she noticed the two Airmen tied up and stashed beside the monitoring station. They too, were down for the count.

"I hope you have a SITREP for me." She inquired, severing their restraints, and then gazed at the dozen screens showing footage of the twenty-eight levels situated within the facility.

"The operations room's systems blew up, specific trigger charge; fortunately no one was caught in the explosion, and according to Walter the Self-Destruct never initiated, just its bells and whistles."

"What about General Landry?"

"His office sustained no damage. He's okay, just ticked off that we caught on too late."

She let out a sigh of relief and replied, "I know how he feels. What about the rest of our people?"

"Mitchell's still at the alpha site with Colonel Reynolds and SG3. Daniel and Teal'c were in the Mess last time I saw them and McKay's with me. He's pretty mad about the inflicted damage, ranting that the dialling device has seen better days."

A breath caught in her throat, the footage suddenly a distant objective.

"On no, don't tell me."

"I'm afraid so Colonel, blown to smithereens." There was a pause on the line before he asked wary. "Sam, what's going on? Why is the General doing this?"

Her heart ached with the questions, yet quickly disregarded the nostalgia. Her eyes combed over the monitors in search of her husband, and then they halted. She had found him, running for the power vault on Level 8.

"Colonel, can you meet me on Level 8?"

"That's a negative. According to McKay, levels until 16 are inaccessible. He's struggling to lift the lockdown, seeing as General O'Neill had managed to alter the codes. I can ask Rodney to. . ."

"Negative, I need McKay to stay put. In the meantime, see what you can do to speed up the reverse process, and find out what has happened to Teal'c and Daniel. Carter out."

"Affirmative, Colonel. Good luck, Sheppard out."

Static noise faded to the background, leaving her alone in the pursuit.

If the vault was the General's next target, the SGC would be vulnerable – no power meant they were incapable of restoring the systems, and with no dialling device, teams were stranded off-world without prior knowledge of the Base's current situation. It would take weeks for their battle cruisers to zip through the Milky Way in aid of them all.

One alternative remained, and that was to use extreme measures. She had to prevent the General from destroying something she vowed to protect at all costs, even if it meant that she forfeit her life.

* * *

 **Power Vault, Level 8**

The lock fell to the ground with a thud from where the bolt cutters had severed its link. Jack noted the caution sign attached to the wire-enforced gate, pulled it towards him, and entered, goal set on disabling the main circuit breaker. If he succeeded, the SGC would be defenceless, and the tablet concealed in his combat vest, would send his pending message.

The padded floor-coverings squeaked faintly underneath his boots as they navigated through the vault, while his eyes glimpsed the green lights flickering above the numerous switches attached to their circuit breakers.

He positioned C-4 with its timers behind the different casings, placing twice as much behind the chief breaker, and once satisfied with the explosives' flickering red lights, vacated the vault.

 _Five minutes . . . then boom. Goodbye primary power, goodbye exploring the rest of the universe and goodbye to years of grief you caused . . ._

"That's far enough!"

Colonel Carter's command shattered through his musing, and he stagnated in the corridor, hands in surrender as she aimed the P-90 at his forehead. His brow furrowed somewhat, confused as to how she had managed to locate him, even with the obstacles placed in his wake.

Jack considered his options.

Ten metres away, the passage behind him ended in a dead-end, and before him, was his wife, partially hidden by the adjacent corridor's wall, twenty metres away. Cornered like a rat, the only way forward unfortunately, was through the one who currently held the advantage.

Not to mention that in four minutes, those options would cease to be, since the explosives would leave them either with fatal injuries, or worse, annihilate them both from existence.

The latter was not part of his objective.

"You shouldn't be here." He said slightly nervous, yet he remained resolute.

She snorted at the statement, adjusting her shoulder against the corner, as to position the rifle in clear view of her assailant, and sarcastically replied.

"Ironic, I was just about to say the same thing."

His arms fell from their propped position, holstering the Zat gun on the way down. They dangled at his thighs as he displayed a calm veneer, but inside he was screaming bloody murder.

"How did you find me? I made sure . . ."

"You forgot that I'm an astrophysicist. Solving problems is part of the job description."

"Were, Sam." He exclaimed in anger. "You're not anymore."

She scowled bemused. "Were? Last time I checked, I was still breathing. Something you will be short on if you don't cooperate."

The snarling threat mirrored how she felt, but Jack ignored it, observing her hold as it tightened around the rifle's grip, forefinger suspended before its trigger. The safety had disengaged the moment she positioned him in the weapon's crosshairs, while her heartbeat had slowed enough to prevent it from shaking.

An unexpected memory flashed before him, an image similar to her stance. He quickly blinked it away, occupying his mind with the countdown ten metres away. The longer they conversed the less time they had of surviving. He had no choice but to inform her of his motive.

"Sam, listen."

"No!" The word exploded in such cold anger that Jack's calm posture turned defensive. "You're done talking."

She gestured at the Berretta buried in his belt, and then at the holstered Zat gun. "Drop your weapons."

"You have to get out of here!" He growled in retort. "You weren't part of the plan."

"What?" Confusion lined her expression.

Her husband's replies made less sense with each passing second, and for the first time, she glimpsed the contesting emotions on his face. That same look of grief she questioned a few days ago shone in his eyes.

"I won't say it again, General. Drop your weapons or I will shoot you."

"Is that what you really want, Sam?" He stepped forward, calling her bluff. "If that's what it takes for you to leave, then go ahead. Shoot me!"

There was a desperate plea in his voice, begging her to end his life.

She allowed him to continue a few more steps, before she moved from her spot towards the oncoming corridor. She knew that it was a vulnerable position, yet somehow she ignored this detail.

"What are you waiting for?" He asked conceited. "Doesn't military protocol state, that if your perpetrator is uncooperative, you use force to subdue him? Now shoot me!"

Jack threatened shrewdly, as he closed the gap between them. Sam backed up slightly, stunned by his gruff approach, and once her back hit the wall, she finally realized that if she disobeyed orders, she would be a deserter just like her husband was.

 _Why am I hesitating?_ She thought. _The military's my life . . . but so was this man across from me._

He halted, seeing the sadness lining her countenance, the tears welling in her eyes as she closed them for a split second, shoving all thoughts aside, and then opened her eyelids, pulling the trigger.

Several bullets pierced the air; however, the dull sound of brass hitting flesh was uncannily quiet, and soon replaced by the soft sound of concrete torn asunder.

He had managed to escape the onslaught, and in mere seconds, had progressed forward thrusting the weapon upwards and away from her grip.

The rifle slithered through the air, dropped with a metal clang, and she felt the effects of the Zat move through her body paralysing muscles and tendons.

Jack hoisted her into a fireman's carry, darted for the elevator located at the end of the corridor, nerves fraught with concern, and once within reach, it refused to open. In anticipation, Sam had initiated a safety protocol trapping them on the level.

They had nowhere to go and no place to hide.

He muttered a curse under his breath as he leaned her limp form against the wall, and sprinted for the corner. There was no time to reverse the process; the C-4 would blow in less than a minute and he had no means to protect them against the blast.

"Dammit Samantha!"

He turned towards the elevator, wishing he could kick it into gear, and then his eyes drifted down to her inert figure.

"You're such a smart ass, you know that? A stickler for the damn rules. Can you, just for once, be less of a perfectionist?"

Spittle flew with the shout, his face red with anger as he darted towards her position, enveloping her form like a shell a turtle's body.

"I didn't risk my future so that I could lose you for a second time, Sam." Jack confessed kissing her forehead gently as tears streamed down his cheeks. "I hope you can forgive me."

He tightened his hold waiting in anticipation, until a loud boom reverberated in the walls, and concrete shards splintered around them, a cloud of grey dust and falling debris following in its wake.

Jack felt pin-like throbbing cascade over his body for a brief moment, and then his world darkened.

Somewhere in the devastation, the hidden tablet squawked softly, signalling that the recipient had received the untraceable message along with its attached files.

It simply read. "Target disabled.  
Initiate Operation Star Discovery.  
General Petro Kuznetsov."

* * *

 **TO BE CONTINUED . . .**


	12. Player Two Step Up to the Plate

Thank you for the awesome, encouraging reviews, and to those who lingered along with the storyline, I appreciate the following.

I admit it was a bit on the slow side, gradually building until the _'big cliffhanger'_ , as a reviewer described it, but I desired to establish the couple's relationship than the threat itself. How they, as individuals, dealt with the secretive nature that was required of them. Especially the doubt Sam faced and how she would react once the secret got out, etc. It's a mystery, spy, and romance kinda narrative after all, and I hope you are excited for the next part.

Remember, _there are two sides to every story_ . . . or was it _never judge a book by its cover_. Anyway . . . I shall keep you no longer.

Let's get to it.

* * *

 **PART TWO**

 **OF THE**

 **INTELLIGENCE OFFICER**

* * *

 **Chapter 12** : Player Two Step up to the plate

 **New York State – Location Unknown**

Heart beating like a stallion's gallop, extended hands shoved branches away, feet pounding against the muddy path in desperation, while the soldier's lungs burned with heavy breathing.

Above him, light from the crescent moon barely broke through the snow-covered canopy, casting long, eerie shadows amidst dark woods, while fog drifted to his far right. He considered its possible camouflage, yet decided to stay the course. What he required, mist could not provide, and that was support of the human kind.

He continued weaving through the forest in a blind rush, emotions clouded by determination, anxiety, and fear, as he increased the gap between himself and the pursuers, when a memory tersely flashed before him.

An entrance reinforced with wooden beams blocked by fallen debris. Not once did he think that the grenade would cause the stone corridor to cave-in like it did, but it happened, sealing half of the captors inside.

A shaky laugh rattled in his chest.

He changed direction once more, shoes slapping against moss, obscuring his footprints from the tracker's view. On the other hand, dogs would quickly pick up an invisible mark. He had to find a river, any kind of source other than snow that could hide his tracks; buy him some time and distance.

Abrasive shouts echoed in the night.

The soldier cursed, moving eastward and emerged from the treeline onto farmland. In the distance, a rooftop peeked beyond a slope half a kilometre away, and without thought, he moved in its direction.

A house meant protection; people were close by. They could call in the cavalry. Help prevent his possible death. It was hope and he needed it to work in his favour tonight.

Fuelled by this revelation, the soldier swerved left, aiming for the barbed fence, swiftly calculating its height as feasible, and sailed over it like a hurdler. He landed abruptly though, reeling shoulder over heel, yet used the tumble as momentum, and within seconds, he was on his feet, gaze set on the garden's picket fence.

He set off like a sprinter, ignoring the growing soreness in his tired, old knees.

Retirement seemed alluring to his aging body, not to mention that this sort of physical discipline no longer suited his desk job. He pressed on regardless, ignoring the need for a respite.

The path ascended somewhat, and his calf muscles ached with the incline, yet once he reached the top, the farmer appeared from his pickup, eyes wide as saucers.

Relief flooded the soldier's system but it was short lived, as a rifle resounded down in the gulley, its bullet travelling at a break-neck speed and collided with the pickup's front wheel.

Air exhaled in a shriek as the tire deflated, and the farmer fell to the ground, hands on his head; hat slightly tipped forward hiding his scared expression.

The soldier veered left, body stooped as he darted for the vehicle.

Two more rounds pierced the air, displacing snow-covered dirt as it hit the path behind him. He dove the last few feet, shoulder rolling towards the back wheel.

"Hey you!" He called out to the scared farmer who had managed to conceal himself underneath the chassis.

"Please tell me you have a gun in the truck."

The older man shook his head, body quivering in shock, and covered his balding crown as another few bullets penetrated the front seat above him.

"Dammit!"

He gazed about the area, eyes frantically searching for anything that looked like a weapon. The men would be here within minutes, which meant whatever he observed in this instance, would make, or break his escape.

An open shed caught his eye and inside were simple tools used mostly for gardening. The bigger equipment, he surmised, was stowed away in the barn, but that situated hundred metres west of the house. Chances of survival dwindled in the low, and he refused to risk his life after the break out. Neither would he drag the farmer into this type of firefight.

The poor man had curled himself into a ball, murmuring incoherent words as the enemy laid down covering fire.

Once he survived this onslaught, he would reimburse the farmer for the damage inflicted. It was the best he could offer a man who unknowingly sheltered an Air Force General.

"Listen." He said as he tugged at the old man's jacket. "You have a name?"

The farmer titled his body to gaze at the calm looking man, and noticed a dirt-covered countenance instead.

"Matthias McGrath." The old man stuttered.

"Call me Jack." He responded politely.

McGrath stared with a blank expression, and the General wondered if the man actually understood what he had stumbled upon.

"There's not much time to explain Matt, but I'm an Air Force General, and those guys advancing up the hill . . . well, they want me dead."

He received a curt nod, but the farmer's amber eyes revealed a void gaze.

Jack peered over the flatbed and marked three visible hostiles in the distance. From memory, and from the six trapped men down in the woodland, three more remained; the buildings and slope undoubtedly hid their advance.

"C'mon." He said pulling McGrath from his hiding place, and then shoved him towards the shed.

Inside, the farmer discovered a suitable hiding place, while the General regarded numerous spades, pitchforks, a utility knife, zip ties, and a toolbox with a hammer dangling from its side.

"Not much, but it's effective."

He grabbed the knife, careful of its sharp edge and hid it within his belt. Next, procured a handful of zip ties, which he buried in his pants' pocket, and lastly, seized the hammer and spade.

Satisfied with the crude weaponry, and the farmer's safety, he set off for the outline of cherry orchards just beyond the small building.

Behind him, the men skirted the garden and split up, two moving for the pickup truck, two checking the house for hostiles, whereas the last two men directed their weapons at the orchards. Boots crushed the gravel underneath their weight as they progressed forward.

The sound reached Jack's position thirty metres away, and he recoiled further behind the dense cherry tree, confident that its bare silhouette would conceal his figure enough for a surprise attack.

Two pairs of footfalls waded in the grass, the sound of metal ringing softly as they scoured the terrain with their rifles. None wore vests and none possessed flashlights, something that worked in his favour.

The dull thuds of their boots placed both on opposite sides of the grove, providing him with a preferred advantage.

He sank down to his haunches, spine flush with the trunk, and began a mental countdown in tune with the sound of their tread. He turned left, knife snaking from his right hand, and then twisted in the opposite direction, hammer releasing from his left hand.

Both projectiles collided with their bodies in loud thwacks, blood-curdling screams emitting from their throats as they collapsed in the grass.

Jack sprinted from his hiding place, slamming the spade against the burly man's head, using the same action on the gaunt fellow soon thereafter.

Momentary silence occurred as he zip tied their hands and feet, when shouts echoed from the truck and farmhouse.

It spurred his effort, Jack helping himself to their semi-automatics, a single combat knife, and then ran deeper into the orchard, when sudden pain spiked in his forehead, moved over his skull down to his neck. A vague image of an operations room flashed soon afterward, and then small trigger charges filled his vision. It swiftly faded away.

He shook free from the reverie, mind firmly set on evading the enemy, and progressed five groves over to the east, before advancing down the incline into the awaiting void below.

* * *

 **60 Minutes Later**

"I apologize for the inconvenience Sir; we had to confirm if you are indeed a high ranking officer in the USAF."

The police officer paused briefly noting the older man's attire.

"It's not every day that a General emerges from a cherry orchard looking like a homeless man."

Jack regarded the holes in his blazer and shirt, the tears in his pants, and grime that masked his scraped skin. His gaze lifted from his muddy shoes, eyes connecting with the police car's windshield, and saw twigs and grass protruding from his hair. He brushed them off, gazing now at the younger man, and pulled the blanket tighter over his shivering figure.

"Yeah, I believe ya! I've had worse though."

His dark pebbles blinked a few times, mind fighting the memory of the Gulf War, back in his black ops days. They flitted towards a woman who supplied the officer with a cell phone, and whispered something in his ear before turning to leave.

"We have a General Ian Willis on the line for you." The officer declared.

"Well, it's about damn time." He said somewhat relieved.

It had been a rocky evening; a familiar voice would suffice for a change.

"He's requested that we communicate via the phone's loudspeaker." The officer said as he placed the cell in his open palm.

Jack stared at the young man, expression slightly confused. Why would Ian threaten national security at a time like this? He nodded his confirmation nonetheless, and cleared his throat.

"O'Neill speaking."

"General O'Neill? What's happened? I was under the impression that you were in Minnesota."

"I was in a hellhole they call a bunker for over a week, that's _what's_ _happened_."

The line went silent, Jack glaring at the phone in disbelief.

"You are mistaken, General." Willis replied guarded. "I saw you last night; hundreds of witnesses can verify your attendance."

"You are the one who's mistaken, _General_ , but I have plenty of bad guys and police officers, who can _verify_ my whereabouts, and I can assure you, it wasn't a Ball."

He felt the blood boiling in his veins as anger surged through his emotions, and then it swiftly reached a new height as the General's voice commanded over the phone.

"Officer Petrus, you are to arrest this man immediately, and detain him until such a time when you are relived of the duty. Understood?"

"Yes Sir." The young man complied, gesturing at his colleagues to come closer.

"What the . . ." Jack called out in rage, stunned with the sudden shift to hostility.

Police officers' surrounded his position, side arms directed at his head.

"You are _way_ out of line, General." He directed the shout at the phone. "Do you not recognize the voice of your superior?"

"All due respect, I first have to see you in the flesh, before I can believe you are General O'Neill." Willis paused fleetly before adding. "I just can't risk it."

"What?" He growled through gritted teeth. "Ian, so help me, I'll have your head when this is over."

The General ignored the threat, addressing the officer once more, "Petrus, you are to disregard this man's orders and any further attempt of explanation, until this matter is cleared by military police."

The young man replied with a curt 'yes sir' after which the line went dead. His eyes then locked with Jack's, remorse clearly noticeable as he shoved him against the vehicle, and continued to cuff his hands behind his back.

"Orders are orders, Sir. I have to obey the law."

"How do you know that _that man_ is not the imposter?" Jack asked over his shoulder, words laced with disappointment.

Petrus opened the vehicle's door, and helped him onto the backseat. Leaning his hand against its roof, he sighed, doubt clear on his countenance.

"That phone call went through numerous switchboards before we reached your superior at the Pentagon. You're telling me that the most secure facility in the world vetted an imposter . . . then I'm a fool for trusting our justice system."

"You're not a fool." He sighed, gaze focussed on his knees. ". . . just a man who's proud of tradition."

The young man chuckled at the comment, moved to shut the door, when he hesitated, brow furrowed.

"If you don't mind me asking, Sir . . ." Jack lifted his gaze, eyebrow creased in scrutiny. "How did you manage to flee the bunker? My men informed me that it's quite a scene down there."

"With luck son, with luck."

"You honestly believe that luck had anything to do with it?" Petrus chuckled again.

"Weren't you ordered to ignore me?" Jack countered peeved.

"I don't care. You may find this hard to believe, but if a man is desperate enough to escape a dozen men, it shows me he has something to live for. You, General O'Neill, are the real deal."

"I hope for both our sakes that my superior agrees with you."

Petrus smiled appreciative. The General continued. "Now, get me outta here before we start swopping backstories or somethin'."

The door slammed shut, the officer coordinating last details with his fellow police officers, while Jack stared off into the night. The farmer sat in the back of an ambulance, a medic attending to his scrapes and bruises, his countenance displaying gratitude.

A gentle smile curled Jack's lips, eyes combing over the farmland. Blue and red mounted lights swirled like miniature lighthouses, whereas down in the forest he noted bright floodlights, and the dim outline of the bunker.

A shiver ran down his spine, muscles fraught with the memory of the passing week. He had no clue why they had grabbed him, why they stowed him away in the dark. All he could think of during that time was getting home to his beautiful wife in one piece.

However, that seemed like a distant dream.

If someone had infiltrated his life, bearing his name and face, Sam was nowhere near Arlington, and if his years of training had taught him anything, it was that the imposter had managed to gain access to Homeworld Security.

The only person who could clear his name now, was George Hammond. He needed to find him before the imposter destroyed his career, his life, and marriage.

"For crying out loud!"

Petrus startled with the exclamation, hastily turning on his heels.

Jack smiled shrewdly thinking the young man would make an excellent soldier, and said, "We need to go, kid. Lives depend on it."

Homeworld Security was important yes, but his love for Samantha superseded everything he had worked hard to achieve.

The officer curtly nodded his understanding, climbed in, and set the vehicle in drive. In the rear-view mirror, he glimpsed the dread on the General's face, a particular look he was familiar with. Behind him, was a man afraid of losing a loved one, someone he would give life and limb for. There was no question that this man would move mountains to save his wife.

Then, the older man's expression hardened as if his mind had settled on something. In a split second, the General altered from a loyal soldier into a husband with a dangerous veneer, and it sent a shiver down Petrus' spine.


	13. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Chapter 13** : Down the Rabbit Hole

On the outskirts of Arlington, Officer Petrus pulled into a quiet gas station, and turned off the car's ignition.

Jack examined the area before he gazed at the rear-view mirror, where the reflection of the young man's grey eyes stared in expectancy.

"Somethin' on your mind, Officer?"

The young man's lips quirked into a sly grin.

"For starters, you can call me Benjamin."

"All right Ben. I'm O'Neill then. Mind telling me why we've stopped?"

"You have this look about you, O'Neill, and I don't think I'll be able to live with myself if I knew I had the means to prevent needless destruction. On the other hand, I can't sit back and watch how that pent up anger reaches boiling point."

"Seems like you're in a pickle, Bengie."

"Appears so, yes."

Petrus pressed a button underneath the steering wheel, the car's boot popping open and climbed out, opened the backdoor, and to Jack's surprise, unlocked his cuffs, moving towards the rear not bothering to see what he did.

"What's up, Bengie?"

He vacated the backseat and regarded the young man as he fished for something, half of his frame hidden by the boot's lid, when his sidearm filtered in to view. An urge to grab it emerged, but he gazed about the neighbourhood instead, ignoring the officer's deliberate ignorance.

Petrus appeared before him duffel in hand, scrutinizing the General's devoid countenance.

"I know you're tired." Jack nodded expression inquisitive. "And there's a lot on your mind . . . I want to know why someone thought it prudent to kidnap an USAF General."

He shrugged replying with a curt, "No clue."

"The medic reported that you sustained various bruises from the escape. No signs of torture, and other than slight dehydration, you're a healthy man."

"What can I say; I'm a tough nut to crack."

The officer dipped his head in accord, but his concerned expression remained. He was sceptical about the General's calm demeanour, seeing as beyond it lurked a raging man, begging to be unleashed.

He tossed over the duffel, which the older man caught like a football, gazed at its faded cobalt colour, and frowned in dislike. Somehow, his current ragged dress blues seemed more alluring than a stranger's casualwear, not to mention the outlandish fact that they were the same height and build.

"Ostensibly, your kidnappers are mute on the subject. Do you mind explaining why this is?"

Jack frowned, slightly concerned; perhaps he should have disarmed the young man when he had the opportunity, driven to the Pentagon instead.

"Is this an interrogation, Bengie? 'Cause last time I checked, I'm the victim here."

The reaction was to the point, authority lacing his tone.

"I only want to confirm the specifics, O'Neill. From my perspective, it appears to be a setup, one of your making. And the conversation with your superior, could easily have been a ruse. Are you not indeed an Air Force General, trained to cover your tracks?"

"Why would I escape from my own bunker, wound my men, and call the cops? Who, in their right mind, does that?" Jack's face revealed the absurdity.

"In my opinion, normally, it's someone with something to hide."

" _Or_ someone kidnapped an important military officer for infiltration purposes. That's why it's vital that I disappear before those MP's notice I'm gone."

"You think they're part of the ruse?" His eyebrow lifted with the inquiry.

"I wouldn't put it pass them. There's no opposition with me out of the picture."

"How will they explain what happened on the cherry farm?"

"They may classify it as a training exercise gone badly, something along those lines. Willis will feign innocence."

"He will leave you high and dry to cover his own ass?"

Jack sighed infuriated by the young man's stubbornness, and continued in a threatening manner.

"I may not look like much to you, son, but I have the highest security clearance within the Pentagon. Do the math."

Petrus regarded the older man's face, noting its stern features, though his dark eyes reflected that of a trusting man.

"It's not me who you should persuade. I'm only doing my duty."

"Listen, Benjamin, I respect what you're doing. It seems like you're a straight arrow, but I have no time for this crap. If I'm right, it took years of careful planning for someone to frame me. So much so, they even have my wife fooled. Trust me, that's next to impossible."

He stared at the officer, hoping that intimidation would enforce obedience. However, the young man stood coolly, arms folded over his chest, quietly considering the options, and then his lips quirked deviously.

"Or _I_ can escort you to the Pentagon."

"Why?" He rolled his wrist, signalling for the young man to elaborate.

"I have a funny feeling that you might need my help."

"That's called a gut feeling, son."

Petrus smirked at the retort.

Jack inhaled, surprised that his patience had lasted this long, and spoke as he exhaled a tired sigh. "We'll make an odd pair." He hesitated briefly, bearing in mind the risk factor.

 _This officer is my only supporter, the only one who can verify my story, on the other hand, is it right to place him in harm's way? He has no security clearance; and though sincere, has no idea what he's volunteering for._

 _Not to mention that he just accused me of treason a moment ago, which means I have to watch my back, carefully._

 _Oy! I need all the help I can get._

"Are you sure you want to follow me down the rabbit hole? You may not like what's on the other side."

Petrus shrugged nonchalantly. "This evening was not my first rodeo, I've had worse."

"You've got spunk, Bengie, but I'll revert back to my previous question. Why? This is not some run of the mill police matter."

"Maybe it's admiration; concern for your wellbeing. Perhaps I feel it's part of my obligation as a police officer."

He gazed at the shop off to the left, thinking carefully, and then gazed at the General.

"I honour what the military stands for. My dad was a veteran from the Vietnam War, and in a way, you kinda remind me of the old man. He would've like you, that's for sure."

Jack considered his plea, the complications he could bring to the table, and his bravado. Something he needed at this moment, he felt fresh out of courage.

"Oh all right, fine." He caved, pointing at the young man. "You follow my orders to the last letter. There's no room for insubordination."

He dipped his head in agreement.

"Good. Why I'm holding this bag?" Jack asked with a raised eyebrow.

Petrus motioned towards a sign that read _men's room._ "You need to freshen up before we go any further."

He looked at his attire again, contemplating if he should accept the kind offer, then nodded.

"Oh yes, shredded dress blues won't fly so well in public. I'll have to get rid of the muck somehow."

"There's a towel and soap inside." Petrus said as he motioned at the duffel, the General nodding his agreement.

"And don't worry about the owner; he owes me a favour, so I suggest you go before the sun comes up."

"Thank you." Jack replied curtly, and walked in the shop's direction, passing several gas pumps before entering the men's bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, he appeared in its doorway, donning a black T and polo neck jersey, black cargo pants, and a snug pair of vans sneakers. His tanned skin was clean of grime, and wet hair sleeked back, yet a few stubborn strands stood erect. He felt out of sorts, but acknowledged that desperate times called for desperate measures.

Jack scowled at the car upon approach, Petrus vacating the driver's seat to meet him.

"Please tell me there's something less obvious stashed behind the gas station; a Chevy maybe, inconspicuous, and preferably black."

"General?" The young man followed his line of sight realizing the concern.

"C'mon all the cop shows have them." Jack justified.

"I'm a police officer not a federal agent."

"Could've fooled me." He muttered frustrated.

"What better way than to hide in plain sight." The General glared at him, however, Petrus playfully threatened as he threw over a fleece jacket. "I could always call you a cab."

"Fine! Conspicuous it is then."

"Good, get in." He revelled in his victory, seized the driver's door handle, and pulled it open.

"On one condition . . ." Jack said as he walked past the hood, heading for the passenger's side.

Petrus halted, one side of his figure halfway in the car, and released a sigh, peering over the top at his smug smiling partner.

"I'm listening."

The General's sneer grew a notch, happy with the young man's quick surrender, and shrugged into the jacket as he replied.

"When things turn squirrely, I get to sound the siren."

The young man gazed at him as if he had gone crazy. "Are you sure you're a two star General?"

" _Yes._ " Jack scowled sceptically as he elongated the word.

Petrus shook his head, body disappearing from view as he climbed in behind the steering wheel.

"No wonder they want to kill you." He murmured.

The General gawked ignorant, bemused by the young man's lack of further explanation.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked no one in particular, and moved to occupy the passenger's seat, Petrus declaring deadpan. "To the Pentagon."

"A stop over first." The words rang in a serious tone, his expression reflecting as such.

"What?"

"There's someone I need to see before I walk into the lion's den."

"Pool of sharks is a more accurate description."

He thought about the statement. "Ha, never thought of it in that way. To Oz, my dear Bengie!" He declared motioning with his forefinger. "To Oz!"

"To Rome, Sir."

"No, I distinctly remember . . ." However, the young man quickly explained, stopping the musing short. "Not all roads lead to it, and neither does your yellow brick road. Which means . . ." He set the vehicle in to drive, hoping that the older man understood the phrase.

"Yeah, yeah." He keyed in the address on the nav. system. "There's Rome for ya."

* * *

"We're here." Benjamin announced.

The General gazed by the officer, observing the stairs leading up to the residence, when a brief memory flash occurred. Two unconscious soldiers stashed beside a monitoring station, and another soldier sprawled on the ground, unmoving.

He cleared his throat, disregarding the blatant recall and said, "I think we're in the clear."

"See, the cop car's not so stupid as you thought."

"Okay." Jack declared ignoring the officer's remark, climbed out, and placed his hand on its top as he scanned the surroundings. The sun barely peeked to the east, its rays extending through the sleeping neighbourhood, whereas dogs barked in the crisp morning air.

"Shall we?" He asked once Petrus emerged from the vehicle.

"Guess so."

"The man's a close friend, if anyone can help, he can. Follow my lead, all right."

The young man nodded, walking behind the General as they progressed up the stairs. He thudded a few times on the door, waited patiently, and then tried again, this time a tad louder than before.

A few minutes passed before the door opened, revealing a balding man still half-asleep. He wore a red robe over his striped pyjamas, blue eyes frowning in puzzlement.

"Can I help . . ." Hammond began, until Jack intercepted the question with a delightful greeting.

"George! How are you doing?"

"Jack?" He questioned, and then noticed the police officer standing behind him, watching the street with concern. "What's going on? Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"Can we come in? I'm freezing my ass off here." He rubbed his hands together, as if to convince his friend it was a friendly social call.

"Ah, sure." Hammond stepped away and beckoned them inside, facial expression displaying scepticism.

The men adhered, moved by, and headed for the living room.

"Lovely home you have here." Jack complimented as he gazed about the room, and then stood still, regarding Hammond's stern gaze.

"Mind filling me in?" He asked, motioning with his chin in the officer's direction. "You may start with your friend over there."

"Ah yes, straight to the point." He smirked, but Hammond's glare remained resolute. He swallowed nervously as he replied. "Officer Benjamin Petrus meet General George Hammond. Well, he's a former General now."

"Please to meet you, Sir." The young man greeted respectfully.

Hammond dipped his head. "You too, officer." He looked to Jack with expectancy.

He hesitated slightly, pondering where he should begin without giving away classified information.

"You know that thing we discussed when I filled your seat? Ah, I mean shoes." George nodded in lieu of a verbal reply regardless of Jack's grimace. "Well, it's not like we expected, it's much worse, actually."

He stared with a deadpan expression and then simply instructed. "I didn't invite you into my home this early in the morning to beat around the bush."

"The thing is, Sir." Petrus began. "He's a traitor . . . to put it mildly."

"Thanks Bengie" He scoffed. "What a way to kill the suspense."

"What?" He shrugged innocently as Jack glared unhappy.

"Ostensibly, Ian has witnesses that can verify my presence at the Military Ball. When I strictly remember, being locked up in a prison cell, outside of Arlington. I have no clue why. None spoke to me except for food rounds."

"He was gone for ten days . . . to be precise." The officer added as an afterthought, Jack shaking his head.

"Any who, we've got a problem."

"I'll say, General."

Hammond's gaze flitted between the men, wondering how much the young man knew, but if he knew his successor, it was not much. Whatever the case might be, Petrus remained a security factor.

"We're dealing with foul . . ." He began, when Jack suddenly cursed, one hand resting on the fireplace, holding his head with the other, as a headache clamped down like a bird's talons.

A memory followed quick on its heels; a room with large circuit breakers, C-4 stuck to their casings, and then it vanished. He felt a strange sensation of exhilaration coursing through his emotions, when it too, disappeared.

"General?" Petrus asked worried, coming to a standstill beside him.

"Jack?" Hammond's eyes lit up with recognition.

He waved them off. "I'm fine, just a headache."

However, George saw through the façade. His friend had witnessed an event, whether past, present or future. Whatsoever time it was, it narrowed down their reservations.

Jack inhaled a shaky breath, containing the turmoil and stared at his former C.O. both sharing a notable expression

"You know what this means, right?" Jack asked.

"Yes, I do. We were wrong about the Russians."

"Maybe; maybe not. He still could've instigated or even falsified the evidence against me. Who knows how long he's been here, but it's a sick and twisted Incursion."

"What you experienced a moment ago, means distance is a factor, and certainly confirms your theory. He may even be a ranking officer within their military."

"How?" Petrus inserted from the side. He had heard enough to draw a conclusion. "If what you are suggesting is correct, this man looks like you. He's legit enough to fool those you're acquainted with."

"I forgot about you." Jack winced at the slip up, directed his attention to Hammond. They shared a meaningful look before he stated. "He's the reason why Willis is running around in circles trying to locate yours truly. We can trust him."

Hammond dipped his chin curtly. "You have a theory, son?"

The officer gaped like a fish, before he swallowed nervously. "Ah yes, Sir. It may sound absurd, but he could have used an Ethan Hunt tactic."

The older men stared perplexed, waiting for an explanation.

"You know the character from those Mission Impossible movies." Their frowns deepened. "They had equipment that created precise facial masks of those they wanted to impersonate. He may have used this technique to imitate someone in the Russian army."

Silence settled in, Petrus feeling a tad embarrassed. "It's just a theory, okay." He muttered to himself.

Jack's face suddenly contorted in agony, a muffled groan echoing in the living room. Hammond stepped forward, placing his hand on the man's shoulder, whereas the young man stared with concern.

The General remained in his harrowing state, suddenly yelling a grief-filled 'no', and then struck the fireplace's mantle in anger, tears streaming down his cheeks.

An image of his wife collapsing in someone's arms flashed before him, glimpsed her limp body leaning against a wall, and felt a spine chilling unease ripple through his emotions. It intensified until the obscure figure covered his wife in a protective hold, and seconds later, fleeting pin-like pain cascaded over his body.

The image swiftly vanished, leaving behind an empty hollow feeling.

"No . . ." Jack whispered, covering his face with trembling hands. A sob racked his chest. "Oh, Sam." Her name resounded affectionately, remorseful even. "Dammit!" He said aloud.

"Jack what did you see?" George asked.

Petrus gazed from the side, tensed and bewildered.

The General was obviously distraught, and he wondered if something had happened to him mentally during the captivity. Was it a delayed reaction? A remembrance perhaps? All he knew was that things were not as they seemed.

"General." He called in a soft tone, but the older man's countenance was devoid of expression, a man lost inside a daze.

It reminded him of trauma victims found at crash sites. They portrayed sorrow, a loss greater than possessions, it revealed how fragile a human could be, but it also showed how much love and care a person's heart retained. Those memories never numbed over time, they were the only ones that stuck by him, as a reminder of what it meant to be alive and cared for.

Somehow, Hammond understood the strange behaviour, as if it was second nature. "What did you see?" He tried again.

Jack snapped from the trance. "The SGC's under attack. Sam . . ." He paused as grief tugged at his stomach. "He blew the power vault, and I think Sam got caught in the explosion."

George let go of his shoulder and paced about, seemingly mulling, while Petrus could not help but think that there was much more to these people than expected. Whatever it was that Jack did for the Pentagon; it was only the icing on the cake.

His body quivered at the thought, his forearms overcome by gooseflesh.

 _Crap, am I neck deep in a government conspiracy?_


	14. The Other Side of the Coin

**Chapter 14** : The Other Side of the Coin

"I felt his emotions, George, as if I was there in person. How in the hell did we miss him? And Sam? That lowlife rat is gonna pay for this."

Hammond motioned for him to quiet down. His wife was still asleep; and it was a wonder she had not yet come to observe the commotion.

"Son, we'll know for sure when we get to that bridge. Do you know how?"

"The quantum mirror's destroyed, and he couldn't have come via the 'Gate." Jack paused briefly, and then asked. "Why attack the SGC of all places?"

"Better question is, Jack. Why did he frame you for espionage, using Russia as the instigator? What does he gain by siding with them, instead of coming to us? And how did he manage to kidnap you without revealing himself?"

"All I know is, that my wife believed him, and she . . ." He suddenly felt queasy. "Shit!" He stared down at the floor, clenching his belly as he fought against the rushing emotions.

"Ah, mighty fine questions you have there." Petrus chuckled nervously. "But this sounds far above my pay grade. I didn't sign up for anything like this."

"Oh, if I had a nickel." Jack quipped as he ignored the officer's terrified expression.

"You still have that retirement gift I gave you?" He asked of Hammond. He nodded his reply. "Great. I know a quick way we can sort this out." His eyes drifted to the ceiling.

George understood the gesture, but indicated at Petrus who squirmed slightly.

"We have to take him along. We can't just leave him here."

"Roger that. I'll have Major Davis deal with him, but first . . ." He motioned at the former General's sleeping attire. "Those aren't your parting clothes."

A grin quirked his lips, "Duly noted, General." Then turned and walked for the hallway.

"Wait!" Petrus protested, hand moving for his sidearm, but Jack quickly intercepted, grabbing his arms and forced them into a lock.

Seized the cuffs. "I'm sorry, Bengie." He slapped it around the young man's wrists. "But it's for your own good."

"You're insane, both of you." He struggled in the hold as the General plopped him down on a chair.

"Ironic, I should be stinking rich for that insult. _Anyway_ , what you're about to witness, will make this seem meek in comparison."

"Can't believe I trusted you." He spat in return.

"Well, kid, in the mortal words of Benjamin Petrus; orders are orders, I have to obey the law."

"The law of spooks, yes." He exclaimed outraged.

"Now, now, be gentle. It's aliens actually. Whom, by the way, are not green. They're grey, actually"

"What?"

He glanced over his shoulder confused by the statement, when he noticed a vacant expression creasing the General's face. Another headache spell was coming on, and quickly felt the older man's grip fasten down on his shoulder.

Meanwhile, Jack heard the faint sound of the officer's whining, his world transforming into that of the bunker. A shadowy figure stood before him.

 **Ten Days Prior to SGC Attack**

Jack O'Neill sensed the cold feeling of concrete creep over his knees and elbows, as he remained in the bent position. An ache spiked in his ribcage where the assailant had booted him, and then the breath lost upon impact, suddenly returned.

A familiar hand took a hold of his arm. Electrical currents rushed through his muscles, body convulsing with the excruciating agony, not knowing that his throat burned from a long, guttural scream.

The hand released and he curled into a ball, shaking violently.

"What you felt is a truth serum navigating its way through your body. It won't be long until it reaches the part of your brain where free choice reigns supreme."

O'Neill instantly sensed its effects in his emotions, forcing his mind to obey. It was confusing, infuriating, and finally, heart breaking, feelings he normally loathed.

"You'll see the truth, every word, every action, the real you in mere seconds."

The man laughed as he observed the struggle on his opponent's face. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, staring into O'Neill's dim eyes while he strained boosting himself to his knees.

"C'mon, _Jack_. Allow me the pleasure."

He grabbed him by the forearm, and a piercing scream echoed in the holding cell as another current released into his body.

"Nothing like that Iraqi prison, hey Jack?" He declared in mock pleasure.

"Nothing like it." O'Neill stuttered sarcastically, body quivering like a rattlesnake once more.

"I'm glad we agree."

"I won't give you what you want."

"Ha, don't need a truth serum to know that ol' boy. You are most stubborn, you are. But . . ."

The sentence dangled unfinished, as the man grabbed his opponent by the hair, pulled it backwards until he was fully on his knees. He groaned with the crude conduct, back muscles fraught with sharp, numbing pain.

". . . you're not as fit as you once were. Back in your black ops days, you ran circles around the other guys, sucha shame."

"Yeah, the stamina's normally the first to go. Adrenaline too, kinda on the slow pace, but it's getting there."

Deep amusement rattled in the man's chest. Then released O'Neill's hair with a jerk, and observed how he toppled onto his side. He paced in a circle around his subject like a lion, proud of his success.

"Glad your sense of humour survived."

"Whatever, I hope you don't."

"Now, now Jack, you can't speak to your doppelgänger like that, not if he holds your life in his hands."

"Oh, I hate replicas." He spat in return. "Are you a clone? From another universe maybe? The future!"

"So happy you asked." Jonathan declared delightful. "I've been dying to tell ya."

He knelt before his opponent, lifted his chin for a better view. "You see, that little serum slithering through your veins, once it wears off, your memory of our intriguing dual will cease to exist. Poof, gone, like it never happened."

He stood from his position.

"Call me Jonathan, okay. Jack sounds so . . . _yesterday_." A wince lined his countenance.

O'Neill scowled in the same disgusted manner.

"When did I become such a sick bastard?"

"Oh, I love this truthful side of you, flyboy, _so_ much better than that stoic, way of the warrior crap."

"You're . . ."

". . . nuts, crazy, three fries short of a happy meal. Whacko!" Jonathan screamed in his opponent's face, anger flitting slightly before his expression changed into a mock sneer.

"I am you, Jack, you're nothing but a photocopy of _my_ making. I created you; _my_ _puppet_."

"What happened to you?"

Jonathan paced in a loop once more, observing him like a king a slave.

O'Neill propped himself on his knees, a tired sigh slipping through his lips. He felt drained physically, even more so, emotionally. The serum was taking its toll and he detested defeat, loathed surrender, but his doppelgänger knew him well, every weakness, and every thought. He would not be pacing about like a conceited, pompous General, if he had him beat.

"You're from the future, aren't you?" He asked voice barely audible.

"Yes, I am."

Jonathan smiled deceitfully, satisfied with the man's submission.

"I suppose that leather band attached to your wrist, holds more than just candour juice."

"It does. It's a beautiful, rare specimen SG1 discovered, well, soon to be discovered on P3X-234."

"Let me guess, ancient time device?" He nodded in lieu of a verbal reply. "Shocky thingie that erases one's memory, that's just great."

"Among other things, but that about sums it up."

O'Neill scowled, surprised with himself.

"You can stop with your condescending tone, bucko."

"Isn't that our signature move? To antagonize our opponent."

"Not if they have a bloody liquid forcing them to surrender." He yelled frustrated, Jonathan merely soaking in his displeasure. "Why did you come back? What the hell happened that you turned into this . . ." He motioned at him. ". . . this _asshole_."

His replica stopped in stride countenance as cold as ice.

O'Neill could see the anger building within. Sudden gooseflesh cascaded over his body, as he had awoken the beast; he could see it in his eyes, an injured bear on a rampage.

They stared at one another for a while before he finally understood. His own anger suddenly peaked.

"You lowlife rat! I would never risk the timeline because of a personal matter, even if I had lost _everything_."

He jettisoned his kneeling position, grabbing hold of Jonathan's collar and shoved him against the wall.

"How long? Huh? How long did you simmer in grief before you decided to ruin _my_ _life_?"

A disturbing laugh echoed in the cell, his replica quavering with the chuckle. O'Neill stepped back, somewhat stunned by the reaction. It was unnatural, so unlike him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked confused.

Fear tore at his heart, suddenly feeling like a cornered rat. The man lifted his eye line, expression dark and contorted.

A malicious snarl lined his lips.

"I risked life and limb for those, who had ceremoniously sacrificed their lives for this pathetic excuse of a planet. It should have been me who died, not them . . . _not her_. Instead, I survived with a handful of bad injuries to show for my valour. The Russians took _everything_ away from me!"

Jonathan's body shook with adrenaline, rage, and remorse, his opponent backing away in concern, until the wall forestalled the effort. He laughed, feeling the device replenish the strength drained by the outburst.

"They were _so busy_ saving the galaxy that they failed to see the brewing battle between our nations. Russia took advantage, wiping America's big fat asset from existence, and with it, the most precious thing I ever had."

He moved forward now, slowly, his subject in clear view and shouted in blind rage.

"They killed my wife, my family, my friends. I had nothing left! I have every damn excuse to repay those Soviets bastards for my loss, to repay the SGC for my suffering. Every! Bloody hell! Reason!"

"What have you done?" He barely muttered as understanding dawned. "How far back did you go?"

Silence settled between them, his malicious smile growing gradually until it reached his eyes in dark wickedness.

"Oh shit no!" O'Neill exclaimed in realization.

"Oh yes!" He growled his approval. "I've been pulling the strings for years. The Russian's, the SGC, Homeworld, _our_ family, all of them ignorant of their puppet master."

O'Neill stared on in disbelief, and suddenly overcome by distraught, his awareness spun sluggishly, mind mulling over the possibilities of a different life. Quickly cursed himself for neglecting Samantha, however, the thought of seeing his family again coiled around his emotions. He saw a fictional image of Charlie in college, Sara thrilled with his girlfriend.

Grief clung like a heavy smog around his heart, welling tears resulting with the emotion and he dropped to his knees, soul torn to shreds.

"You had the means to save Charlie and Sara, and you let them die?"

"Yes, yes." The words echoed in quick procession, the ravenous pleasure heard in their tone.

"I watched how the life drained from those murderers' eyes." His head leaned back, arms spread-eagle. "Oh, the sweet satisfaction! I had the privilege to avenge their deaths."

"You twisted, demented bastard!" O'Neill yelled in livid rage. "You could have saved them. Our lives could have been different."

A fraught cord snapped in Jonathan's mind, and his furious gaze levelled with his kneeling subject.

"No, no, no!" The shout boomed in spitting disagreement, O'Neill startling with the reprimand.

"You _love_ Samantha. _Samantha's_ the one you promised to protect, always. _She's the one_ you married, to save yourself. She's the only person that understood _my agony_! Not Sara, not Charlie. Samantha!"

Jonathan's void gaze danced with bitter torment.

O'Neill felt sick to his stomach, instant nausea pushing bile to his throat. This man, someone that shared the same history, had turned into a lost, misguided fool. Quick abhorrence revealed on his face.

"I'm nothing like you!" He called out. "Nothing like you." He whispered heart broken.

"We'll see about that." Jonathan hissed under his breath, eyes alight with fire.

He came for O'Neill, taking hold of his throat, drew him to his feet, and then tightened the grip ever so slightly.

Jack felt his airway constrict, yet still managed a croak. "What did that thing do to you?" His eyes rested on the wristband.

"It's the fountain of youth, much better than that Goa'uld sarcophagus."

"It took your soul, you stupid son of a . . ." His last words slurred, faded as the man tightened his grip.

Tendrils unravelled from the device, O'Neill's eyes bulging in shock as they snaked towards his temples and connected. A low growl emitted from his lips, climbing in tone while excruciating pain rippled through his body.

He collapsed soon thereafter, like a sack of rocks into an inert heap.

Jonathan stared down at his subject's limp figure, expression arrogant.

"This is the last time I'll be seeing ya chap." He curtsied before concluding, "I bid you . . . a good night."

Jonathan spread his arms like a tenor accepting applause from admiring spectators.

"That's all folks; stay tuned for scenes from our next episode."

Laughter rattled in his chest as he directed his right hand towards the iron door.

"Open za door!" He instructed playfully, and then dramatically declared, "Onwards to wreak havoc, we simply must."

The guard detached the bolt from its place and swung the contraption open, his superior dipping a 'thank you' while he sung a tune.

"Memories; Memories; All your memories are mine. To inflict pain; to subdue doubt, to claim fame."

A deep cackle escaped through his lips, as he went down the next corridor.

"Adios, so long Jack, good luck finding your way outta here."

He sung the self-made tune once more, ending it theatrically, "Samantha; Samantha; I'm coming for you. Yes, quake with fear; your nightmare comes to life. Nowhere to run; you can't escape this man."

* * *

 **Present Day**

"Jack."

His name came through barely audible, his mind stuck in the past. He groaned in response, willing his limbs to move.

"General O'Neill."

He jerked from the stupor and noticed his current situation, on a bed inside the Daedalus' infirmary. The Scottish doctor, Carson Beckett, shone a penlight in his eyes, declaring that he was fully lucid.

"He's awake, General Hammond."

"I'm retired Doctor. George will do." He replied in his Texan accent.

"Ay, I'll remember that for next time."

"Excuse me." Jack croaked. "What's going on?"

"I found you unconscious on my living room floor, son."

"What? Where's Petrus? Do you know what's going on with the SGC?" He tried to move, but a sluggish response in his muscles forestalled the effort.

"Davis is with him now, he's fine. Your duplicate placed preventive measures as a safeguard, we can't beam men down, nor can we beam people out."

"Communications are down, and the power's out, but according to the life sign's detector, base personnel are unharmed."

"Dr Beckett is it?" Jack queried with a scrutinizing eyebrow, wondering why a medical doctor was informing him of such matters and not Colonel Caldwell.

"Ay." He replied with a grateful smile.

"Well, I'm comforted." He said sardonically, Carson's smile fading with the insult. Jack ignored him, turning his gaze on Hammond.

"He's not a duplicate, George. He's the future me." He attempted to sit up, but then hesitated as pain flowed through his body.

"You better lay down lad, before you cause unnecessary damage to that brain of yours." Carson placed his hand on the General's chest to help him stay down, but he protested with an instruction.

"Test my blood. I received an injection of some kind during the abduction. I think the serum's still active."

"How do you know this, Jack?" Hammond asked while glimpsing the doctor as he followed the instruction.

"The blackout was a recall. I don't know the specifics, but I shouldn't have remembered the discussion."

"I don't understand."

He hissed as the needle pierced his flesh, observed how the blood filled the tube, and continued to watch the doctor as he vacated the room. Hammond helped him sit upright, his facial features showing lingering pain.

"I remembered the encounter . . . _vividly_. He had a time device stuck to his wrist, which injected a truth serum into my bloodstream, apparently, once it left my system; it erased the ordeal from memory. It also has the ability to replicate my memories. That's why he was successful with the Incursion."

Jack paused slightly, Hammond dipping his head in understanding.

"He's been pulling the strings for years, George. All for her; for Sam." A grimace laced his countenance. "Russia destroyed Homeworld, the SGC, everything we've worked hard to protect, gone just like that. He came back, did the same as they did, but without causalities, all to keep Sam from dying all over again."

"Doesn't make it right, Jack. You of all people should know how cruel it is to manipulate peoples' lives."

"Yeah, I know, I agree. The device had changed him into a deranged animal, took his soul for crying out loud!"

His face lit up with recognition as a piece of the puzzle suddenly made sense.

"I need to get down there."

He threw the covers off, throwing his legs over the side, when a dizzy spell occurred. He ignored it, yet before he could stand up, Hammond rested a hand on his shoulder.

"You know you can't."

"We can beam a team down outside of the radius, have them infiltrate via the emergency hatch and eliminate his defences. Better yet, send me with them."

"I can't permit you to breach the contract, General O'Neill." Hammond warned with urgency.

"Aren't we past that? That bastard's down there, _he's_ the traitor, not me."

"The agreement was for you to stay away from the SGC, so that you couldn't be used as Russia's so-called Trojan horse."

"I can't sit back and watch my life's work be destroyed by a psychopath. I won't accept it, George. She's _my_ wife. Not his! I will not let that rat protect _my Sam_!"

"The evidence to exonerate you is still down there. Moreover, we have no way of knowing what Russia's plan is beyond this point. We can't risk our plan not after everything SG1 did to protect you."

"Yes, we can. Beam Major Davis down to General Kuznetsov's snug, little office . . ."

Hammond shook his head, replying, "He's been missing for the past fourteen days, presumed dead."

"You gotta be kidding me, Bengie's theory was correct? You both were!" He called out as he remembered something. "What better way than to hide in plain sight."

Jack chuckled briefly. "Dang, smart kid. So then, Jonathan _did_ have influence both here and there, goading and goading and goading over the years, until now, his supposed d-day."

"We still don't know what he planned for Russia?" Hammond said seemingly pondering. "If he has one, we need to warn them."

"Over my dead body." Jack declared disgusted. "They deserve what's coming."


	15. To Russia with Protest

**Chapter 15** : To Russia with Protest

 **Underground Chamber** **\- Russia**

Mestrovic covered the distance in record time as he bounded up the stairs, and burst through the door without announcing himself. Colonel Dimitri startled with the entrance, vacating his seat with a swift push off and exclaimed angry.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The young analyst bent forward, winded from the run, before he assumed a rigid posture, heels banging against one another.

"I apologize, Colonel, but I have a message from the General."

Dimitri's threatening glare quickly changed to confusion. "What does it say?"

"Message reads: Target disabled; Initiate Operation Star Discovery; General Petro Kuznetsov."

"That's impossible!"

"Da Ser."

Dimitri sat down, seemingly lost, and rubbed his chin absentmindedly.

"That's not the name of the Operation, nor is it our deadline." He muttered under his breath. "We have yet to initiate our attack."

"If I may speak freely, Colonel."

His gaze snapped up, hoping the analyst would shed some light on the matter.

"Go ahead." He said.

"I took the liberty today of monitoring surveillance between our nation and America. Stargate Command, more accurately, Daniel Jackson has been investigating our Intelligence Sector for the past thirty-two hours. Moreover, their C.O. General Landry has done some digging of his own. They know of our strategy, we've been compromised."

"What? Impossible!"

"There's more. We know General Kuznetsov went missing fourteen days ago, presumed a deserter, some say even dead. However, my sources confirm the first part of the message. The SGC's immobilized, they have no power and no means of communication. They're dead in the water with only their battle cruisers as last defence."

"How? I had no knowledge of an operative within the SGC. Can it be that the General's MIA status was a subterfuge? That he was the one who managed to inflict the damage." He mulled for a few seconds and then stated as an afterthought. "He was on friendly terms with Homeworld Security, which was a means to gather more Intel for our attack plan."

"Once again, Colonel, there's more."

"More?"

"Da Ser. Homeworld is keeping it under wraps, but it appears as if General O'Neill was kidnapped ten days ago. However . . . he was sighted at their Military Ball two days ago."

"Then it has to be Kuznetsov. The events add up."

"Do you really think the General did this?"

"Why not? Since Chekov's initiative, Kuznetsov's kept a close eye on O'Neill's career with a magnifying glass. He seemed obsessed with the man, so much so, that head office was afraid he would ruin our opportunity of dismantling the SGC beforehand."

"I thought the General was the reason we began this in the first place. Head Office termed it as an audacious ploy. Overreaching even, but he said it would work for our good if we kept threatening to expose their top intelligence officer. The SGC would then appoint this officer as proof of his innocence."

"Da, Kuznetsov predicted that Jack O'Neill would then become Hammond's successor. And once it happened, we would make our final move. That was the day when he ordered the summary of the key players."

"The same day _Petro_ allegedly disappeared . . . _right?_ " Jack asked after he appeared in the room. "Man, if I had a dollar." He mocked, whilst appreciating their stunned expressions.

Mestrovic scurried for the door, but the General blocked the way with a large stride. Meanwhile, Dimitri snatched his handgun from the drawer, directed it at him, when another bright light illuminated the room catching him off guard.

"That's the thanks we get for covering your asses." Jack said as he watched how Caldwell seized the Colonel's weapon. "I told him this was a bad idea, didn't I Steven?"

"You did, Sir."

"I explicitly said 'over my dead body' will I help these Napoleonic power mongers. I'd rather be with the Search and Rescue team; instead, I got the messenger's job."

"Excuse me." Mestrovic croaked, Dimitri drilling him with a stern glare to keep quiet. He swallowed nervously as Jack gazed with a sardonic expression.

"You're not. We simply can't have you informing your comrades of our presence, can we? Now, be a good boy and join your superior." He said whilst motioning at the desk.

The young analyst dipped his head in confirmation, face revealing the anxiety he was currently undergoing and walked towards Dimitri. Caldwell came about, Beretta trained on the men and halted beside the General.

A sly smile curled Jack's lips as he seized the chair before him, dragged it along the floor until he reached the wall and sat down, sneer growing ever so slightly.

"I believe we have a little Kuznetsov problem, in addition to some files he had sent your way recently. I do hope you haven't accessed them."

He gazed about the room; ears attuned to the voices resonating outside in the command centre, and set his gaze on Dimitri.

"Sounds like you're still intact."

"What do mean?" The Colonel questioned.

"Sir, I think I know what he's referring to, I saw the attached files, yet thought it prudent to discuss the message before mentioning it." Jack dipped his head in accord, smile sardonic. "If I surmise correctly, it was rigged to exploit our classified information in addition to current operations."

"What?" Dimitri exclaimed appalled, and directed his gaze toward O'Neill, awaiting clarification.

"A schemer, Petro is. That's the fake one, just so we're clear, the real Kuznetsov has been pushing up daises for the last five years. True story."

Dimitri glared angered by Jack's accusation; an American spy would dare insult his C.O.

"I want proof before I allow this traitor to accuse the General of treason."

"Oh, you have plenty of that, Colonel. So I suggest we get down to business, negotiate terms of surrender . . ." He swallowed, detesting the following words. ". . . on both sides. Yes, you heard the horrific truth – it's a draw, fellas."

* * *

 **Stargate Command**

"Dammit to hell!" Rodney growled at the tablet.

Wires protruded from the device, leading down to where he had attempted to connect it with the system. Deep inside, he was thankful for emergency power, the only thing that currently helped with the virtual pursuit.

" _Language_ , McKay."

He stared up at Colonel Sheppard, eyes blazing. "I can't let this guy beat me. He is an intelligence officer for crying out loud."

"Calm down." He advised over the scientist's shoulder, frowning as the different sequences streamed across the screen.

"Easy for you to say, you don't hold the balance of life and death in your hands."

"Aren't you exaggerating a bit?" He straightened his spine, observing soldiers as they gathered in the gate room, all from levels 27 and 28.

"What? Maybe you don't understand our predicament, _flyboy_. Neck deep, we're neck deep, and I'm the only one who can save our behinds."

"How long until _that_ happens?"

"Oh, you're asking for a whipping." Rodney bit back.

"No, I'm asking for a time limit. Colonel Carter hasn't responded to my radio call. You know what that means, right?"

Rodney winced, his mind visualizing the possibilities.

"I'm trying not to. Okay." He paused, typing away when he reluctantly confessed. "I hate to admit it, but he's good, too good for my liking, bloody prehistoric bugger. Still don't know what she saw in him. I said he was bad luck, but _no_ , who listens to me. Look at what's happened. No power, no way of calling for help, we can't get to the generators to dial out manually. Who knows what else he's booby-trapped. Guy's a freakin' loose cannon."

His eyes squinted as he regarded the complex coding. "A genius, mind you." He declared all of a sudden. Sheppard rolled his eyes in retort. "Never knew he had a brain inside that mop head of his."

"You're drooling, Rodney. Stop it, it's disgusting. The guy's a double agent for goodness sake."

"What?" He countered a tad offended, then glimpsed Sheppard's sneer. "Shut up! I'm working as fast as I can." His fingers halted on the touchscreen. "Oh my!" He said surprised.

"What? Did you do it?" Sheppard asked eagerly.

"Ah, no, but what I said before, about being neck deep in it."

"Get to the point, McKay." He commanded somewhat dismayed.

"Geez, okay. Well, we're submerged and not even the paddle can help us. Our battle cruisers can't beam the personnel out, or in for that matter. He found a way to block the technology. Don't ask me how, but he did it."

"How long?" Daniel asked as he arrived, Teal'c not far behind. "What the hell happened here?" He questioned as he noticed the blown dialling computer and several burnt consoles.

"A little late to the party, aren't you?" Rodney mocked, but then his smile disappeared as Teal'c towered above him.

Daniel placed his hands on his hips, and shook his head in disdain. "Next time, I'll make you go down several levels on a ladder and see how you feel at the end."

Colonel Sheppard and Teal'c shared a wry smile, enjoying the horrified look on Rodney's face.

He replied nervously. "Point taken." Daniel smiled slyly as a verbal reply. "I surmise from your question that you encountered no one with a radio." He shook his head as a 'no'.

"Where is Colonel Carter?" The Jaffa asked unexpectedly. "Is General Landry unable . . ."

Sheppard directed their gaze towards the shattered staircase leading up to the briefing room. "Elevator's down too. He's stuck up there."

"And Sam?" Daniel asked concerned.

"She was up on Level 8. Haven't heard from her since, but with the power down, best guess is, that she ran into the General."

"Yeah, somethin' bad's happened if she's not responding." Rodney said.

"Is there nothing we can do to assist Colonel Carter?" Teal'c's eyebrow raised with the concerned question.

"It's going to take a while before Homeworld sends an S&R team. The battle cruisers are out of the question, and if you like to climb those ladders again; be my guest, no one's stopping you."

"Thanks for the good news, Rodney." Daniel retorted annoyed.

"I've instructed soldiers nearest the level to get up there, see what's going on, but as you know, it's gonna take time." Sheppard shrugged apologetic.

"It will be shorter than our journey from down here, unless Dr McKay can lift the lockdown." Teal'c scrutinized with a raised eyebrow.

"Fine, why don't I save all our asses by myself? Oh yes, I'm busy with _that_."

"Sam would have by now. And don't you dare deny it, Rodney." Daniel narrowed his eyes at the scientist daring him to disagree.

"Amateurs, I work with a bunch of amateurs." He finally declared. "Why don't you . . . go and rescue Landry or somethin'. Leave the hacking to the professionals."

He waved them off with an arrogant look, but Daniel walked forward in a threatening fashion, placing his face before his.

"Just so you know, Rodney, if Sam is dead by the time they reach her. I'll hold you accountable. Believe me; when I'm through with you, it will be nearly as bad as what Teal'c will do to you."

"You will never type again." The Jaffa added, causing the scientist to swallow his response.

Both men glared in anger, Sheppard silently urging Rodney to recommence his hacking before they did as promised.


	16. Survival of the Fittest

**Chapter 16** : Survival of the Fittest

Samantha O'Neill awoke to remote radio chatter. Multiple voices calling for reply, but she failed to reach the radio stashed in the vest pocket, instead, she concentrated on her chest as it struggled to breathe.

She inhaled a shallow breath, when all of a sudden dust caused a coughing spell. Pain coursed through her body, a shaky groan slipping through her lips as she attempted to move the access weight. However, the effort was fruitless and she remained in the pinned position.

A sticky damp sensation on her right hip beckoned her to full awareness, quickly noting a streak of red down her arm, and then glimpsed grey hair drenched with blood; the remainder of the concealed figure appeared shortly thereafter. She blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the green emergency light shining in the darkness, before she noted a faint outline of debris beyond her position.

She was trapped in a three-by three-metre portion of the collapsed corridor, with her husband submerged underneath a mound of concrete wreckage, whereas she situated beneath him, in a seated position.

Shock fluttered in her stomach.

Jack had protected her from his own attack, an explosion severing the power vault to pieces, in addition to the adjoining corridors leading up to the elevator. The same elevator she had programmed to remain inoperative until she lifted its lockdown.

That never happened, leaving her husband with only one other option – use his body as a shield. Protect her as best he could. Now why would he do such a thing if disabling the SGC were the main goal? In his grand scheme, she considered herself as part of that objective; ostensibly, Jack thought otherwise.

Sam groaned once more, trying to wriggle free from his weight, but only one arm freed in the process. From her perspective, it looked as if he had been desperate in his attempt, as if he was guarding something costly.

A shiver ran down her spine at the thought, her mind and heart desiring so desperately to get away from her husband, her friend, who was a killer, a con artist. He deserved nothing more than to rot in a jail cell. Even that would be a lenient sentence.

She hated him, despised his actions, irked by his love. How dare he take advantage of the SGC's sincerity, blow a place she called home to pieces for the enemy's sake?

Sam cursed under her breath, fighting hard to break free from his hold. When nothing happened, she felt for a pulse, detecting a faint beat on his jugular vein, and shouted. "Wake up! I know you're alive, Jack. Wake up!"

Nevertheless, he stayed in his unconscious state.

"Get off!" She yelled furious, managing to shove some dirt away with her free hand. "You lowlife rat! Wake up!"

Setting her sights on a larger piece of concrete sprawled over his back, she heaved it to the side, exhaling with the struggle, but the obstacle only shifted slightly.

Another curse resonated.

The anger only made breathing harder, but she had an objective in mind, and she was going to reach it with a vehement determination.

If she only had full mobility, she could be free of the confined space, free of her husband's proximity; she could inform the others of the situation, yet in order to do so, she needed his help, and that was the last thing she wanted. She despised the idea of asking a murderer for assistance.

"Why?" She shouted again, yet this time, sorrow laced the outburst. "I gave you my life! How dare you throw it back in my face?"

Tears streamed down her cheeks, grief-filled emotions paralysing her momentum. The effort felt like she was fighting against quicksand, her breathing resonating as if it was suffocating her.

Panic ran through her soul, erupting in her body, and then her breathing sped up. For the first time in her career, the confined space felt like it was draining her will to survive.

"C'mon!" Sam yelled suddenly terrified. "Wake up, you stubborn bastard!" She slapped his cheek with the plea. "You said you'd be there for me. _Always._ " She whispered in a rickety tone.

Sobs racked her body as she felt the last of her strength emptying like a dam. Only sleep threatened her now.

 _Rodney, you can do it, break through Jack's coding. Sheppard knows I'm down here. C'mon guys, I don't know how long I can stay awake for. I need air, badly._

"So badly. Please help me! I beg you, please."

 _Daniel. Teal'c._

"Anyone . . ."

The world around her began to spin slowly, when after a few seconds, it darkened, but not before, she noticed the leather band on his wrist glow in an emerald colour.

* * *

Jonathan felt the device replenish his energy as unnatural strength coursed through his body. However, the damage done was too much for it to heal all his injuries. He sensed the weight of the rubble pressed against his back, several bones pulverised with the impact. Paralysed for the rest of his life, but he did not have to live for long.

Sam was safe; Jack free and Russia would soon feel the brunt of their mistake.

He had achieved everything he had set out to do, the device merely the guide to changing the timeline for his good. He did not need it anymore, yet somehow the mental command for it to stop was ineffective.

It required one last thing.

His eyes opened sluggishly, vision clouded with sweat and blood. A saturated uniform filtered through the cloud and his heart plunged. He had made sure Sam were fully protected, putting his body in the line of fire, but now blood soaked her side, who knows what other injuries she had sustained. A headache instantly cobwebbed over his skull and he realized that it was his blood not hers.

Relief rushed through his emotions, lifting his chin slightly for a better view, when agony shot along his spine and neck. A grief-filled growl escaped his lips, muscles reacting as if torn asunder, but then, a numb sensation followed next, the device attempting to conceal the fact that he was dying, slowly.

Understanding dawned without warning; its motive was to aid Samantha free herself.

"Sam." He whispered in a shaky voice. "Wake up."

She moaned in reply, head stirring slightly.

"That's it, you gotta wake up." Jonathan encouraged. "We're not done yet."

"No kidding."

He heard the venom in her tone, the resentment for the SGC's dilemma slicing like a knife.

"I'm sorry, but now's not the time. You need to free yourself."

"You care?" She scoffed. "How sweet."

"Sam!" Jonathan snarled. "Push your damn emotions aside and help me help you."

She grabbed a full hand of hair and tugged, a horrifying scream emitting from his lips as tremendous agony tore at his back.

"Emotions repressed, Jack." Sam growled.

Tears welled in his eyes with the coarse conduct, even more so with her fearsome gaze. He understood her anger, but she failed to understand his grief, his anger, and bitterness. In this case, they were not two peas in a pod.

"If you desire _so much_ to get away from me, then I suggest we work together. I've got no additional strength for your bull."

She glimpsed the light emanating from the wristband and released her grip. His head fell against her side, while she glared disorientated.

Jonathan connected her silence with the device's glow and quickly explained.

"It's the only thing keeping me alive. So please, let's co-operate. If not, we'll both be dead by the time a rescue team gets here."

Sam's mind slowly linked the pieces together, shallow breathing making it hard to understand their predicament. She needed help, this she remembered clearly, but she also remembered that he was the reason she was stuck in the first place. Nonetheless, if she refused to comply both would be dead.

Jack's death seemed alluring, deserving even. And what she felt inside – a broken, torn heart, her own death looked attractive.

"Sam, I know what you're thinking." Jonathan's words slurred somewhat, yet continued regardless. "Death is the easy way out. That's a coward's path. You're not a coward, Carter; you're the smartest woman I've ever met."

"Shut up! I don't care. You used me for your own benefit. You're the coward!"

"No! I am a survivor, the fighter. You _were_ the one that gave up."

He felt her gasp in shock, body straining for oxygen. He was crushing her and the dust-filled air was suffocating her lungs.

"Use your trapped arm and thrust against my ribcage. Do it . . . _now!_ "

He growled with the command, pushing against the weight as best he could. Extra assistance supported the effort, her free hand driving against his left shoulder, while her right hand shoved his upper body up and away.

Jonathan felt her budge free from the trap, heard her breathe normally, while he sunk down exhausted body raw with pain. The rubble had shifted from his back, however, still cemented him to the floor. At least his wife was free to call for assistance, something he heard faintly.

"Colonel Sheppard, this is Colonel Carter, please respond."

As the radio crackled to life, Sam hid the sidearm seized from his belt in her vest, and tried calling again, but the line stayed distorted.

"Dammit!"

She then reached for the tablet on her back and retrieved a shattered device instead.

Nothing seemed to be going her way, and she turned her angry glare on her husband. His eyes closed, a satisfied smirk lining his lips, while blood mixed with the dirt that covered his face. She moved towards the debris sprawled over his lower body and shoved it aside with fervent resolve.

"Leave it!" He shouted, Sam startling with the fierce command. "It's not going to help."

"Bullshit! You're going to face . . ."

"I'm a dead man talking, Sam!"

His sudden deep laughter triggered a terrified feeling in her stomach.

"You have no idea, do you? And you call yourself an astrophysicist."

She stared in astonishment, body colliding with the elevator, as dread trembled down her frame, heart sinking to her boots. Her husband had disappeared and re-emerged in a kneeling position, inches away from her feet.

"Shame . . . on . . . you, honey." Jonathan teased breathless, whilst a wicked expression spread across his facial features. She saw how he fell forward, first to his hands and elbows and then toppled to his side. The terrifying look etched his face, as if engrained to last forever. It was dark and contorted so unlike the man she knew and loved.

Laughter resonated again, jolting her back to reality.

Sam relaxed but stayed flush with the metal doors. There was nowhere to go, no tablet to release the elevator from its lockdown, and no way for the rescue team to reach their position even with the emergency ladder. Her salvation, unfortunately, had to come from the device wrapped around her husband's wrist.

She swallowed nervously. For once, she was scared.

"Smokin' hot thoughts, Carter." The words slithered their way through her skin, her surname resonating with remorse. "I betcha only one keeps popping to the surface. It's enticing isn't it? The wristband is alluring but deadly."

He rolled onto his back, the whites of his eyes visible as he stared up at her. "Look at me." It was a calm yet persuasive whisper.

"What?" She snapped from the daze, and noticed his concern.

"Don't look at it. The device knows I'm a dying man. Do the math, honey." He chuckled under his breath. "Time travelling's a . . ."

"You're." Sam interrupted realization flitting on her countenance. "If you're from the future, where's?"

". . . The other one? Oh, here, there, who cares?"

Disgust burned within, and slowly turned into anger as she muttered. "Why?"

"Use that beauty of a brain, Carter." He sneered recalling the interrogation to memory. "What's your mind telling ya?" He repeated her words in mock pleasure.

"How could you? That's far from the Jack I know. He would never . . ."

"I did! All to save you, yes. You're alive aren't you? A _thank you_ would be nice."

"I wish I had never met you." She voiced instead.

"Wow!" He replied offended. "That actually hurt!"

"Not as much as this will." She drew the Berretta hidden in her vest and aimed. "I should have followed orders the first time, and denied the fact that I had _ever_ loved you. Life would've been simpler with you out of it."

He swallowed expression deadpan, gaze fixed on the weapon. "Wonder where _that_ had gone. You know, you were less complicated in my timeline. Less of a stickler. You were soft, kind, compassionate. We had loads of fun. A firecracker of a woman, but I had turned you into . . . this."

Jonathan concealed the sorrow by covering his face, sobbing with the revelation.

"I'm so sorry. The changes were so small, minute for you to see, yet it was effective. The longer I interfered, the more the timeline shifted away from your death, but I lost my soul in the process, my willpower, the integrity we swore we would never abandon. I had to become the villain, had to discard the man you fell in love with to keep you alive."

"How long?" She asked, lowering the weapon. No matter how much she hated him, she needed answers.

"Time is irrelevant."

"How long!" She shouted at him.

Jonathan crawled to the right, groaning with the action, until the wall forestalled him. He then continued to prop himself up to a seated position. Sam trailed the deed with the sidearm, alert for another surprise; however, she could see that he was hanging on by a thread. The last disappearance was seemingly all the device could produce.

He closed his eyes, absorbing the pain best he could and replied.

"Five years, give or take, yet the manipulation of events happened before you and I met. I made sure you fell in love, kept you from speaking about the SGC, and I made sure Jack only learned of the Stargate in '05, when in my timeline I had known before our marriage."

"What?"

"I had complete control of the situation just like you had taught the team."

"I would never . . ."

"Change the timeline, yes; therefore you schooled us on the importance of sticking to our predestined futures. The device was stored at Area 51, away from sticky fingers and lustful politicians."

"Yet you still ignored my warnings and destroyed the timeline."

"Of course I did! I lost everything, Samantha. You think I was going to sit back and wallow in grief. Kill myself! No, I would rather sacrifice _my future_ to see your world thrive."

"You're no better than the Goa'uld." She remarked with a sickened tone.

"An insult I can live with."

"No better than the Russians."

His eyes opened, dancing with fury and noted the smug look on her face.

"Don't you dare compare me to those Soviet bastards. They had a depraved desire to terminate the SGC's regime to build their own in its place. Before I left, they had set themselves up as the dominant nation, by exposing the 'Gate's capability of reaching other flourishing planets. That's our life's work for you."

"What? How?"

"They murdered key personnel as a pre-emptive strike, and when that didn't work, they destroyed the SGC, all of you . . . _dead_. The President terminated Homeworld Security after the assault; filing the Stargate Program as a security humiliation, and covered up the deaths as the termination of rogue agents, all because he wanted to avoid scrutiny. It was a damn election year."

"And you thought disabling this facility, would prevent them from achieving their set goal."

"The damage can be repaired, lives can't."

"You made us vulnerable to the enemy, Jack, just what they need to take control."

"I've been guiding their sorry asses for years, just like I opened Hammond's eyes to their scheme via General Petro Kuznetsov. I've been playing for both sides since the beginning, Sam, all of them little puppets on strings. I betcha, ol' George is in Russia right now, accomplishing one last heroic deed before he dies of natural causes."

Jonathan paused briefly allowing the information to sink before he continued.

"And if it makes you feel better, your husband is alive, negotiating with Russia to dismantle their attempts at a power play. They will face the consequences of their crimes against America. Everything is as it should be of that I am sure."

Sam stared on, appalled that that would make her feel better, when all it did was justify his sick and twisted logic.

"I never realized the depth of your arrogance, General O'Neill. My Jack was selfless, always thinking about how he could help others. Not once did he express ungratefulness, yet rather found joy in the smallest of things. You destroyed a valuable piece of my life, forced me to betray his love and compassion. I don't think I can ever see him in the same light again, not after what you told me. It's sickening to know you're one in the same person."

Tears streamed down her cheeks, her blood boiling in furious anger. Sobs racked her body for a while before she stilled.

"I hate you! Hate what you've done! You're a monster! Your meddling is the reason I lost my unborn child, and I'll never forgive you for that."

Sam sank down to her knees, emotionally spent, and physically drained from the confession. Sobs racked her body, hands on her head as she hid her deep sorrow.

Jonathan stared with shock, a terrible heartache enveloping his body like a hefty garment. It smothered his will to reply, to apologize. He growled under his breath, increasing in momentum, as he poured everything he had in to the guttural scream.

He was a man wailing for his loved ones, the death of an unborn child. He destroyed his legacy, his life, his wife, and the man who she loved – everything his doing. He should never have surrendered to its euphoria, to its strength and narcotic healing power. Never should have compromised his integrity, allowed sorrow to blind him, nor should he have allowed the device to steal his humanity.

Jonathan released another guttural scream, one filled with anger and bitter resentment. And continued with the action, until his heart admitted defeat, and his lungs exhaled for last time.

Colonel Carter lifted her eyes, staring with cloudy vision at the man who had ruined her life. His hands collapsed to his thighs, open palms to the ceiling as his head lolled to the side. She watched how the wristband detached with a pop, and landed on the heap next to him.

She felt nothing, no regret, no grief, no nothing. She was an empty shell, and somehow the device had perceived it, had pleaded through Jack, giving her one last opportunity to erase the damage done. Yet instead, she lifted the handgun and aimed at its green emerald, when she both heard and saw the light of the cruiser's beam dispel a man before her.

Jack O'Neill stared at the body of his doppelgänger, head soaked with blood from the wound on his crown. It had trailed down his face, neckline, smearing his soot covered BDU with a dark stain. The red liquid pooled around his lower body, possibly from wounds on his upper back. It was a horrific scene, yet in some way, he felt relieved that it was finally over.

His puppet master was dead.

 _Good riddens._

Jack thought to himself, when to the right, the device's emerald flickered like a warning sign, triggering a curious attraction within his emotions. He felt his body drawn to it as if it was a magnet, and he succumbed, mind screaming to stop, while his gaze stayed resolute on its beauty.

A sudden groan echoed to the left, shattering the trance.

He turned towards it, looking directly in to a gun's barrel, whereas beyond it lurked the stained face of his wife. Tears had mixed in with the grey soot on her cheeks, yet what made him grit his teeth in fear, was her expression. It twisted in stone cold anger, unlike he had ever seen before; a shiver enveloped his spine, until he saw its detached safety, forefinger tight around the trigger. She wanted, desired, sought his death with passionate fury.

"You lied to me." She hissed under her breath. "You . . . LIED! You knew I was assigned to you, knew about the SGC . . . everything, but you kept it to yourself. You let me betray you. How dare you! How dare you." The last words resonated in a thwarted whisper.

The weapon shook in her hand, but her aim stayed true, yet she was an expert shooter; he could see it in her eyes.

Jack swallowed the nausea in his throat, thought hard about his next words. The dead man on the floor had left him with a heart-breaking dilemma.

"Sam." He began tone affectionate it slithered through her body. She faltered slightly, but swiftly regained composure.

"No words can describe how much all of this sucks, but you have to believe me when I say, it was all to protect the Stargate Program from exposure. Everything I did, that Hammond did was to prevent the other nations from controlling the 'Gate."

Her hand faltered again, but the determination remained, and the sidearm returned to his forehead.

"Listen, that man." Jack shoved his hand in Jonathan's direction. "That's the old me. He didn't marry you, I DID." He shouted with vigour, startling her. " _We_ had a life together, dammit; I love you with everything that I had, Samantha. Everything I did was for you. I loved you regardless of your assignment, regardless of the looming threat. I gave you my heart, soul and body . . . _all of it!_ Because I care about you more than humanly possible. I meant what I said at our wedding. I am broken without you. Please just lower the weapon."

They stared at each other, remorse lining their expressions. Jack joined her in sobbing, concealing it with his hands. He had poured out his soul, his heart to her, begging to forgive him. Then he heard the safety click on and relief flooded his insides. He focussed on his wife, and saw that she required more.

He glanced at the inert figure.

"That thing on his wrist wiped my memories; manipulated our lives to suit his. He's the reason we're in this mess."

Jack stopped as he felt Sam envelop him in a hug, arms curled tightly around his body. He melted, surrendering to the embrace, when the gun went off, the bullet shredding its way through his insides, and sensed how it escaped through his skin.

They sank to the floor in tandem, Sam supporting his weight all the way down, and held the back of his head as she whispered in his ear. "I'm so sorry, Jack."

She aimed the weapon at the device's sparkling emerald.

"I know you felt its lure as well, stronger than what I did, but we can't undo his mistake. It will end up destroying our lives . . . every single time. It's not worth it."

Jack felt her arm jolt underneath his, heard the wristband shattering with the impact, and then his awareness warped into a bright light.


	17. It Ends Before It Can Begin

**Finis** : It Ends before it can Begin

 **Original Timeline** **– Stargate Command, October 2009**

"Get it off!" O'Neill tugged at the device with intense determination, startling the rest of the onlookers. He had a horrified look on his face as he scratched at the fastenings, and Colonel Carter quickly helped with the deed, detaching it with ease.

"I want that thing _gone_ , now." He instructed urgently.

"But Sir?" Carter protested, but quickly swallowed the attempt as the General glared with rage.

"No buts Carter."

"Jack." Daniel began. "Don't you think you're overreacting just a bit?"

He disregarded the archaeologist's remark, rather directed his attention to the Jaffa, gesturing, his expression stern.

"Take this to Colonel Reynolds and you make sure he burns it to a crisp. Understood?"

Jack then glanced at the rest of SG1, warning harshly. "And if anyone of you attempts to use it before then, you're fired. No joke, no funny quip, it's genuine."

Teal'c' dipped his head, grabbed the object without question, and vacated the lab. Everyone else stared with confusion, suddenly terrified by the General's behaviour, while Vala, on the other hand, was more thwarted that a beautiful souvenir had received such a harsh sentence.

SG1 found the piece of technology on P3X-234, and after Carter and Daniel had inspected it thoroughly, they determined it to be an Ancient device, which supplied the wearer with the ability of glimpsing a parallel universe.

Furthermore, since the President thought it prudent for Jack to receive his promotion of Lt. General at the SGC, the team assumed it would be a nice doohickey for him to activate on their behalf, seeing that he already possessed the Ancient Gene.

A thoughtful act that occurred a few minutes ago, which triggered the next question, had the preview been that severe?

The said question burned within Colonel Carter.

General Landry had recalled her from the Hammond especially for O'Neill's ceremony, and she looked forward to sharing the new technology with him. Now, he demanded its destruction and left the lab without elaborating on his reason.

She slipped past Mitchell, Daniel, and Vala, who were busy discussing the event and ran after the General, but when she reached him, the elevator doors closed, separating them from each other. He had avoided eye contact, seemingly lost in thought; nevertheless, she had noted the disturbed look on his face. This boggled her even more, yet she knew that when he avoided conversation, specifically with her, he needed time alone to process what he saw.

All she knew was there had been an unusual attraction to it, and everyone experienced the same sensation, but knew it was best to stay away. General O'Neill just confirmed the worse, thus she had to be patient, and deal with what could have been in her own way.

The fact of the matter was she trusted Jack's judgement above her own. He had not achieved his latest promotion because of favour. It had come with years of saving earth alongside trusted friends. People whom he protected and cared for like family, she respected the harsh instruction and so would the rest of the team.

Colonel Carter turned on her heels and returned to the lab, where Daniel and Vala were arguing over some stolen possession, while Mitchell enjoyed the playful threats exchanged between the two.

Meanwhile, General O'Neill stood rigid within the elevator, deep in thought, images of that other life still fresh in his memory. He could feel the wristband's influence, how it drew him towards that timeline, how it revealed the worst case of his _what if_ thoughts, giving him the opportunity to accept or deny it, which in his opinion was a cruel joke.

He shook his head, trying hard to forget the possibility, focussing rather on how his body trembled with adrenaline.

Frankly, there is no one person in the universe who has sat down, evaluated their past, wishing they could have done things differently. _If only_ they had married their first love. _What if_ they had moved away from their birthplace? Life would have turned out either for the better, or for the worse.

In this timeline scenario, he had everything, yet allowed it to slip through his fingers. He had destroyed his life, and the cruel reality was that the device stayed in the centre. All roads continued to lead in its direction, tempting the wearer to try one more time.

He had made the right decision. The life he lived, and still lived, was reality, he would not dare change a thing. Saving lives, helping to liberate people from oppression, and exchanging knowledge with good folks – that is life. Why would he trade it for disaster and betrayal?

The metal doors slid open, breaking through the contemplation. He left the elevator, entered Level 27, and lingered until the doors closed behind him.

He would walk down this corridor, go in to Landry's office, and express his gratitude for the award's ceremony. Ask him to address the team on his behalf and apologize for his behaviour. Bid his goodbye, instructing the Hammond to beam him from and to his own office at Homeworld Security, where he would officially write a report about why he had terminated a valuable piece of technology.

* * *

 **Washington D.C.** **– Few days later**

"I am Lieutenant General Jack O'Neill, and my life, as I knew it to be had altered into a cruel and twisted Incursion. Colonel Carter informed me it would be a foretaste of a parallel universe. However, it felt like I was sucked into a black, empty canvas, coerced to observe what the deepest recesses of my mind . . . honestly; if I continued writing, it would scare the living daylights out of anyone who actually read this report."

 _Maybe I should scrub the opening line._ He thought as he scanned the words again. _To the President it would be the . . ._

He pondered fleetingly.

 _Never mind, I've lost count of the possible realities. The team has encountered numerous, reading about it one more time won't change the fact that we've always fared well to save our collective asses._

His eyes darted from left to right as they observed the document displayed on the screen, while his mind filtered through the surmount of information. He moved the cursor to the word _report_ then erased the paragraph up until the introduction. His slender fingers hovered over the keyboard, and finally after a minutes' delay, they set off, depressing letter after letter.

"Truth be told, to you the days may have passed with no change at all, but for me, in the blink of an eye, my whole life had transformed into living hell. I existed in a world that revolved around the sun, transgressing through the years ignorant of the Stargate and its gift to society. Where America celebrated its pride in its clandestine services and its sudden climb in technology, while the rest of the planet trailed behind, jealous of the nation's military prominence. It was evident that the struggle to achieve greatness rose to a new height from underneath Cheyenne Mountain. And little did the continents know that I was the reason why America's Air Force reigned supreme."

 _For crying out loud! I can see the smirk on Daniel's face, not to mention Teal'c's raised eyebrow. And Carter . . . if it sounds like high and mighty garbage to me, her reaction won't be such a head scratcher._

An exasperated sigh echoed in the room as Jack erased the words for the fourth time.

He shoved the chair away from the desk, rose from his seated position, grabbed the coffee mug off its surface, and strolled for the window overlooking the suburban park.

In a couple of hours, his guest would knock on the front door, awaiting a narrative of why he had left the SGC in such a hurry a few days ago.

 _It's Sam Carter dammit! There's no need to stress O'Neill,_ _but just imagine the dozens of questions running through her mind. Like a hamster in its wheel, round and round they go, searching for answers._

"What did you expect? You are friends after . . ." The declaration forestalled.

 _You are more than just friends, Jack. You desire a relationship, and normally, when you've experienced a different reality, she's the one you turn to for explanation._

Jack regarded the trees swaying in the light breeze, observed how the coloured leaves dangled to the ground, before his eyes lifted to the clouds passing by.

 _I'm afraid there's only one thing you can do. Recall every event that happened no matter how absurd it may seem. Sam deserves to know the truth, what you saw in that world, the confusion you endured, the deception you encountered . . ._

"I have to tell Carter why I had to destroy it before she had the opportunity to learn of its true function. All of it!" Jack hissed over the mug's rim. "You've seen what betrayal can do, so leave no stone unturned, O'Neill."

The gruff words echoed in the study as he tried to convince himself it was the correct decision, but he was afraid of the consequences.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. Opening them again, he walked back to the open laptop, set the empty mug on the desk's surface, and sat down. He leaned back in the chair staring at the ceiling, gaze distant.

There was no choice in the matter, his superiors required a report, Carter demanded answers, and he still had no idea where to begin.

* * *

 **THE END**

* * *

That's all folks. Yes, the sad truth but I do hope you enjoyed it.

Thank you to all who followed and reviewed, it was cool to see what you thought, surprises included. The support's greatly appreciated. I bid you a good week, awesome month, and amazing year ahead.

Cheers, lezaanv


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